


On the Fields of Freedoms Edge

by TipsyArmadillo



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Mech Preg, Mentions of non-con, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TipsyArmadillo/pseuds/TipsyArmadillo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus goes to extreme measures to stop Megatron once and for all</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever foray into the Transformers fandom! I'm excited. This fic has not been beta read so any and all spelling and grammar errors belong to me. With no further ado lets transform and roll out!

Megatron woke to the sound of soft voices speaking above him. His processor felt sluggish, it was difficult to concentrate but the voices were familiar enough for him to take notice. He fought through the haze and forced his optics online. Two blurry shapes and a mess of colours was all he could make out. His optics offlined against his will, leaving him in darkness. The voices continued as though they hadn’t noticed his optics flash.

“Please, Optimus, reconsider. It isn’t right, you and I know it.”

That voice was familiar.

“And what are my options,” Optimus asked, sounding weary. Defeated.

“Offline him. Quickly, and with some dignity. He doesn’t deserve our mercy but he does deserve a clean, honorable death. Not a single ‘bot would speak a word against us.”

“You may be right, Ratchet. Even so, I cannot condone killing a weakened and unarmed opponent. It would be murder.”

“And is what you’re considering any better,” Ratchet demanded.

“Perhaps not but I see no other way. While killing Megatron has never been a task I have shied away from I had always imagined the circumstances of his death to be somewhat more … grand. If I offlined him as he is we would have the entire Decepticon army at our doorstep calling for our spilled energon. A death in fair combat they might have understood and accepted but the time for that has passed. If I challenge him to combat now what are our options? If I won the Decepticons would view it as a mockery of justice and Megatron would die a martyr. If I lost Megatron would be free to continue the Decepticon cause with the Matrix of leadership ensuring his victory. “

Optimus’s vents exhaled deeply.

There was a long moment of silence until Ratchet spoke. “It’s wrong, Optimus.”

“I know,” the other ‘bot agreed softly. “What choice do I have? This is the only possible solution. The Decepticons need not know he survived and we can keep him safely contained to live out a comfortable life. It’s more than he deserves.”

“Nobody is expecting a body, Optimus. No ‘bot would have to know if we did it here and now.”

Another long pause. “I can’t. Please understand, my friend. As far as he has fallen I once considered this mech to be a brother to me. If I can’t give him freedom or a dignified death I can at least give him life, however little a life it may be.”

“And what will you tell the others,” Ratchet asked, his voice now soft. He was resigned to his leader’s decision.

“Nothing. This isn’t something I would wish to become public knowledge. He can stay here; I will visit him from time to time and ration a portion of our energon for him.”

“And you’re sure the coding will make it so he can’t leave?”

“I’m sure. He won’t be able to disobey a direct order from me,” Optimus assured him.

“Then do it and pray to Primus this doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

The voices became a distant buzz, falling out of his hazy processor entirely. Megaton gave into exhaustion and fell into a peaceful recharge.

 

***

 

He woke to his processor feeling clearer that it had been in cycles. He had a vague memory of an explosion of some kind. A fight that seemed muted and dulled in his memory. A quick internal scan revealed damage but, more disturbingly, damage that had healed over time.

How long had he been in stasis?

His internal chronometer wouldn’t give an accurate display indicating some possible processor injuries, likely sustained in battle.

Megatron wisely kept his optics offline and took stock of the situation. It wasn’t good. He was heavily restrained, even laying still he could feel the heavy weight of the bonds crossing his chest plate and holding his limbs down. Whoever had restrained him knew who they were dealing with. Since he highly doubted his Decepticons would dare restrain him in such a way and he knew very well the humans had no such means to restrain him so effectively that left the only obvious choice.

Autobots.

Megatron onlined his optics and was disappointed to find no one was in the room. He was almost insulted. Did the Autobots think him so little a threat they couldn’t even be bothered to post a guard or six to watch him? That wouldn’t do.

He began testing the restrains. As he expected they didn’t give.

“Be at ease, Megatron.”

“Optimus Prime,” he snarled, unable to turn his restrained head to face the mech. “I must say, Prime, this isn’t you usual style.”

Optimus didn’t speak and Megatron strained against the bonds.

A very small flutter of anxiety began creeping up his back plates.

“Do not ignore me, Optimus.”

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m concentrating.”

Optimus finally came into view and it took Megatron only a glance at the expression on the mechs face to realize something was wrong. Optimus looked guilty.

The flutter of anxiety became a bit more pronounced.

“What is going on, Prime? Why am I not in the brig? Where are the guards?”

Optimus frown, his guilty expression deepening. “You always were perceptive.”

“No, Prime, you are just far too easy to read.”

The Prime smiled slightly, the expression turning sour on his face and disappearing as quickly as it had begun.

Megatron began tugging on his restraints in earnest, straining his servos against the unforgiving bands to no avail. Prime wasn’t taking any chances with his prisoner and while Megatron had to commend the simple efficiency of his restraints the fact was that he didn’t take being restrained with any amount of grace. He felt caged and claustrophobic, wanting nothing more than to be able to stand and move freely. Restraints chafed, a cold reminder of his former lift in the Pits.

“I hadn’t meant for you to be awake until after everything was complete. I didn’t want to alarm you.”

“Alarm me,” Megatron barked out a laugh that felt forced to his audials. He was afraid. “How generous, Prime. I can assure you that you need not worry about my delicate sensibilities. It would take a great deal more than I’m sure you could come up with to alarm me.”

“Perhaps,” Prime said.

He moved closer to Megatron who glared at him with all the hatred a fury he could muster. Prime seemed unaffected as he put his servos on Megatrons chest plate, fingers easily finding the override panel underneath his armour. Megatron jerked away as his chest plate opened and the dim blue glow of his spark lit Primes armour.

The moment his spark was exposed Megatron began struggling. He pulled and thrashed and threw all of his considerable weight against the bonds and wasn’t able to move them an inch. His chest plate stayed open while Prime stood back and watched him struggle with an unhappy look on his face.

A snarl escaped the Warlord as his rage began to give away to impotent frustration at being unable to escape his bonds. Worse, at being unable to decipher the meaning behind Primes actions.

Was the Prime going to extinguish his spark? No, Prime wasn’t the sort to kill a helpless foe.

What possible reason could he have for exposing Megatron’s spark?

The only answers Megatron could come up with were ones that make the energon in his lines freeze with a sickly fear.

There were only two reasons to expose a spark.

To kill a mech or to bond to them.

“Don’t do this Prime,” Megatron howled, bucking so hard against his bonds that the metal began groaning under the strain.

“I’m sorry but you have left me little choice.”

“No choice? Kill me Prime. That is you choice. Strike! Do it!” Optimus shook his head, looking ill. Megatron grit his dentas and put everything he had into breaking the restraints. He failed, tried again and still failed, his anger building with every failed attempt. Prime waited patiently until Megatron lay on the metal slab, vents hitching, trying to draw air as fast as they could into his overheating systems. “Don’t you dare Prime,” Megatron said. “Bonding with me will only weaken both our causes and you know it.”

“That is true, if I meant to bond with you.”

Megatron froze as he stared at the Prime, not understanding.

Prime elaborated. “A true bond would be useless for my purposes. I can’t kill you so the best I can do is incapacitate you.”

A wretched roil in his tanks threatened to make him purge what little energon he had left in his tanks. The word incapacitate in regards to his spark was something that drew up images of a fate worse than death. If Prime tampered with his spark with the goal of rendering him useless there would be no end to the damage he could do. He could spend the rest of his days as a mech completely out of his processor, needing assistance to do the most basic of tasks. The great Warlord and Leader of the Decepticon army could, with the wrong move of Primes hands, be reduced to a vacant optic’d drone or an invalid without control over basic bodily functions.

Though he knew it was futile Megatron thrashed against his restraints with a bellow that echoed in the small room.

Still his restraints didn’t give.

Megatron could only stare up at the stark grey ceiling with coldly determined optics and resolve to bear whatever Prime would throw at him. “Tell me, what are you going to do?”

“I-it’s an old program, long since fallen out of general memory. I uncovered it while translating the Iacon database. An old slave program. It was added into your hardcode while you were in stasis; all it requires is spark to spark contact and a genetic imprint. You were meant to be in stasis until everything was complete. I suppose this is for the best though. You might have reacted worse if you have come out of stasis already ... incapacitated.”

Megatron listened to Prime speak, hardly daring to believe a word of it.

It sounded so farfetched and unreal. Surely this couldn’t be Prime, not the Prime he knew. The Prime who, even he had to admit, held unshakable convictions about freedoms and rights for all sentient beings. His Prime was going against every belief he held dear to enslave an enemy.

He was at a loss for words. It didn’t seem real.

Prime babbled on but all Megatron could think about was how much he hated Autobots. All of them, they were the worst kind of cowardly hypocrite, saying one thing and then doing something like this. Prime wouldn’t even be giving him the dignity of a proper warrior’s death, instead choosing to draw out the fight long past its true end.

“Megatron? Are you even listening?”

Megatron turned his optics on Prime, taking in the shame faced visage and the cold determination underneath the shame. “Kill me, Prime. “

“I can’t do that. At least this way you will get to live. Think of it as an early retirement.”

Against his will a sharp laugh escaped, the thread of hysteria underneath barely noticeable. “Death is preferable.” And he meant it; anything was better than what Prime envisioned for him. Slave was not a role that suited one such as him. He was a warrior, a leader; a life of subjugation represented everything he had fought so hard against.

To his horror Prime didn’t respond to his statement and instead rested what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting servo on his shoulder plate.

“I hope one day you will forgive me and realize what I’ve done is for the best.”

“Prime … don’t do this,” he ground out, feeling everything slipping away from him. His freedom and control and independence suddenly all in jeopardy because of one foolish Prime who thought he had the power to make the leader of the Decepticons submit.

Prime shook his head. “It’s better if you aren’t awake for what comes next.”

“Prime, no!”

Optimus disappeared from view.

Megatron thrashed as hard as he could, felling his plating dent under the force of his struggles. It made no difference, the bonds didn’t give and within moments a creeping lethargy fell over him, his optics going dull. The last thing he was aware of before the world went dark was a deep sense of despair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the alternate name to this fic should be "the one where Megatron spends a lot of time alone on an island". Thanks to everyone who reviewed, your encouragement is greatly appreciated. You all know how to make a girl feel welcome to a fandom. :D

When Megatron woke at last his chronometer was working, displaying a date several solar cycles from when he had last been aware of the date.

For some reason the realization that several solar cycles had passed with him unaware seemed only a distant concern. He couldn’t seem to muster up the will to care. His processor and frame felt heavy and everything seemed distant, from the passage of time to the terrible ache in parts of his body that didn’t bear thinking about.

He had the impression that something had happened. A malaise weighed upon him heavily, he knew vaguely that something was wrong but couldn’t seem to make his processor work enough to understand why he felt this way.

“Are you awake?”

Megatrons optics focused blankly on the face of Optimus Prime and a sickly feeling in his tanks blossomed. Brief flashes of pain and fear assaulted him and his servos itched to wrap themselves around the Primes neck.

His vocalizer sputtered slightly and he choked out, “What have you done?”

“The slave coding is set. The worst is over.” Megatrons optics slid away from Prime and focused dully on the wall as Prime continued to speak. “You aren’t restrained anymore, you’re free to move about but before you can leave I have a few specific orders for you, if you are to remain safely … retired.”

If his frame didn’t feel so heavy he would have Prime writhing on the floor in agony. He would watch the mechs optics dim as his spark faded and he would love every nano-cycle of it.

Prime seemed to collect himself for what he was about to say next. “Firstly, you are not to harm any living creature unless you feel it is a direct threat to your life. You are not to speak of what has happened in this room to any ‘bot or human save for myself and Ratchet. You are not to attempt to contact anyone aside from myself and this includes making your presence known to humans or signaling for help. You will not attempt to harm yourself or cause your own death in any way. And lastly, you will not attempt leave the perimeters of this island.”

Megatrons vents hitched slightly, every command feeling like a shackle on him as Optimus calmly spelled out his fate. The stupid mech actually seemed to think this was a mercy. He would have preferred torture over listening to those words, feeling the commands turn into code that effectively chained him in bondage, no better than a slave, unable to perform any action Prime had forbidden.

Prime seemed to understand this if the expression on his faceplates was any indication. The guilt of a Prime was something Megatron had assumed he would find great pleasure in, if he ever saw such a thing. The reality was considerably less enjoyable than previously expected.

“I hope in time you will settle into your new life and find some happiness.” Megatron said nothing, staring at Prime with murder in his optics and willing his greatest foe to die. “I cannot stay with you any longer but I will be checking in periodically. I’ve left you enough energon to last you for several orbital cycles and I’m sure you will find the valley pleasant. Some entertainment had also been provided.”

“A fine prison, Prime, you’ve been very thorough.”

There was an awkward silence and Prime left with a murmured: “I can only hope one day you will forgive me. I wish you to know that had I seen another option I would have never done this to you but if slavery is the alternative to your death then I will gladly take it. Despite what you may think, Megatron, I have always valued your life.” He paused as if expecting some reply. When none was forthcoming he said softly, “I’ll be back in a few solar cycles.”

Silence reigned for a long while until the sound of a craft taking off briefly disturbed the silence.

It disappeared soon enough and Megatron was left alone. Clearly Prime felt safe enough in Megatrons bondage to leave him unattended so shortly after his awakening. There must have been urgent business calling him away, he doubted Prime would have left willingly otherwise. Megatron could guess that the disturbance was Starscream related. His absence would have left a power void that Starscream would no doubt be eager to fill and, if Prime was smart, and Megatron grudgingly admitted he was, he would take full advantage of the confusion.

For once in his life Megatron wished for Starscreams success. If anybody could take down the Autobots, aside from himself, it would be his tenacious second in command. If nothing else could be said about the traitorous wretch he seemed to hate Autobots almost more than he hated his commander.

A smirk passed over his lips and faded to nothing.

Had he fallen so far he was reduced to hoping for Starscreams success?

No. He wouldn’t take this laying down. As heavily as the slave code weighed on him he wasn’t going to be defeated that easily. No simple line of code was going to take down the leader of the Decepticon army and a Gladiator of Kaon. He was Megatron. It would take more than Prime was capable of to defeat him.

Megatron heaved his body up, forcing away the vertigo and sickness. A terrible ache in his valve made itself known and Megatron bowed his head, feeling ill, knowing what had happened while he had been in stasis. When Prime said he needed a genetic imprint he had no idea that was what he had meant. Slowly he reached down to touch the source of the pain, flinching violently at the contact and coming away with energon stained fingers.

Prime had broken his seal, doing a crude job of it, the first to ever breach the Warlord and he hadn’t even the finesse to make sure the breaching hadn’t done any damage.

No wonder Optimus had left so fast, he was probably mortified.

Megatron certainly would be if he had ever failed so spectacularly at interfacing.

Gingerly he stood, groaning at the pain in his valve, steadying himself on the medical berth. The sick seep of fluids from his valve turned his tanks. He quickly found a discarded rag and cleaned the area as best he could, throwing the cloth away in disgust the moment he was done.

Once had had collected himself Megatron took stock of his surroundings. This wasn’t the room he had been in when he had woke the first time. He had been transported while in stasis.

The room was bare of everything but the basics. A simple medical berth, a locker of some sort, a stack of energon cubes and a basic computer system that Megatron would have bet any amount of credits was useless as a communication device. He decided to give it a try anyways.

As he expected it was a basic system with no access to any cybertronian networks save for a single comm link that was labeled as ‘Optimus Prime’. He was able to connect to the human network but Optimus’ command earlier made it impossible for him to use the connection to even attempt to contact his Decepticons. Even the thought of disobeying the orders made his processor ache.

No matter. An opportunity would present itself. He could be patient.

As much as it pained him to have been so thoroughly and completely trapped he would not admit to defeat until his spark was cold and dead in his chest. If there was a way out he would find it.

Megatron left the console, moving slowly so as not to aggravate his injuries, and headed towards the locker. That proved as useless as the computer, being filled with a variety of cloths, polishes and various data pads that, upon closer inspection, were nothing more than useless entertainments.

There was nothing more to see, this room was useless. It was time to see the landscape of his new prison.

He shuffled to the door. It opened automatically and he was momentarily blinded by the contrast of his dim prison and the blazing light of the outdoors.

His pedes sank slightly into the grass as he took his first step into the outdoors, taking in the seemingly boundless expanse of green. 

As prisons went it was a bit more luxurious than he had been anticipating. 

A field of rich green grass spread out beyond the walls of his prison cell, the contrast of green and the horizon of clear blue momentarily sent his frayed processor reeling. Such sights were impossible on Cybertron, the colours and the scope was alien to him. Though he had been on this planet for several months he had not gotten used to some of the finer points of living on an alien planet and his recent traumas only seemed to make the alien landscape that much more unpleasant. If he was to be perfectly honest, Earth disturbed him. He longed for the hard metal and symmetry of Cybertron. This planet was disorderly and chaotic and so terribly fragile. It didn’t sit well with him, a mech who valued strength and order above all else.

He took another step and surveyed the landscape. To the right was an area that looked like forest, to his left, a continuation of green field that he suspected led to water. He recalled Optimus saying he couldn’t leave the island. Water could prove an opportunity for escape if he could find a way to override that command.

Though he wasn’t familiar with humans climates he suspected he was still quite close to the Americas as the landscape and temperature seemed to indicate this was neither a tropical location nor a frigid environment.

Soundwave would know. He wished his Third was with him, Soundwaves advice was invaluable and of all the mechs in his command Soundwave was likely more familiar than any Decepticon with earth and its geography.

If only he could get a message to Soundwave.

His processor ached at the thought of disobeying a direct order.

Megatron grit his dentas, a low rumble making his displeasure known to no one but himself.

As long as he was trapped here he would be patient and wait for an opportunity, he trusted enough in Soundwave to know his loyal Third was searching for him.

All he needed was patience.

 

***

 

That night he dreamed. He dreamed of being tied down, humans were crawling all over him, getting under his armour and planting grass in his joints, tiny little creatures eating him from the inside out, turning him into a nest of organic life.

He tried to scream but the grass muffled his vocalizer, growing and growing until he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Roots twisted inside his frame and a tree sprouted from his mouth, growing up and up, its roots breaking him apart from the inside.

“Just relax, it will be over soon,” said Prime from above him, thrusting forward.

Megatron woke with a shout, rolling into a battle ready position, vents heaving and frame shaking with the force of the energon coursing through his lines.

Everything was dark.

He quickly left the small transport container that Optimus had left behind as his living quarters, escaping into the field. The sight of the grass in the moonlight made him slightly nervous so he picked up his pace and headed to where he knew the coastline was from his earlier exploration.

It only took a few kliks before the sound of waves reached his audials.

The sand beneath his pedes shifted, throwing has balance off. He didn’t care. He moved forward, closer to the water, then into the surf. Further and further until the compulsion to obey stopped him.

He stood hip deep in water, feeling the sting of his valve and the ache in his struts as the water writhed around him.

In the middle of the night with only the cold ocean as witness Megatron screamed.

 

***

 

It had been a deca-Cycle since his captivity began. Megatron had thoroughly explored every inch of the island, an island he had decided to name The Pit. Despite its name The Pit wasn’t all that bad, it was expansive enough for him to move freely and the local wildlife was varied and interesting. The caves were particularly interesting, enormous structures that required steady nerves and daring to reach as they could only be found by scaling down the sheer cliff face on the northwestern edge of The Pit where the winds and waves were strongest.

Megatron took the journey on his second week, gladly meeting the challenge of the organic world.

The caves themselves were a marvel, carved by ages of being pounded by the surf and the wind into vast caverns that Megatron had taken to residing in. He found them to be as close to Cybertron as the natural organic world seemed to allow. His feet held a steady ground and the size of the caves made him feel … normal, as though he weren’t a giant lumbering around in a miniature world.

It was when returning from the caves on his first deca-cycle that a searing pain hit him, midway up the cliff face an agony unlike anything he had felt in his existence seemed to come over him, nearly making him lose his grip on the slippery rocks.

Megatron groaned in pain, pressing his helm against the stone and riding it out, wishing his hands weren’t occupied, wishing he could curl up against the pain. Instead he was stuck between safety and certain death, unable to simply end it because of the slave compulsion yet unable to continue to safety for the continuous pain that nearly crippled him.

When it passed Megatron quickly scaled to the top, resting on the grass, exhausted.

The pain lingered, now a mild ache that was easy to ignore.

What caused the pain, he didn’t know. Ever since that first day he had been continuously plagued by aches and pains and a lingering fatigue that frustrated the mech who was used to being at top physical peak.

A small part of him hoped it was a sign of his eventual death, a larger part of him hoped not, he wanted revenge too much to die before killing Prime.

It was only the thought of revenge that kept him from falling into a maddened rage.

Later that day when he returned to his living container he found it had been restocked with energon and entertainment data pads. A few comforts had been added, cleaning solvents that Megatron gladly put to use as soon as he found them and what looked like a paintbrush and paints along with two canvases.

Megatron immediately shoved them into the back of the locker.

When he was free he would be sure to gouge out Primes optics with the brushes he had so kindly provided.

 

***

 

Megatron added a hint of green to the canvas. Though the water here was more often than not a murky grayish black, today was different, the water reflecting many colours Megatron would not have expected.

His claws were speckled with paint but he found it easier to get details right with the tips of his claws. The brushes were only good for adding bold stokes, the finer details were best left to deft claws.

Once he was done with this he would paint it over and start again.

He didn’t feel any great sentimental attachment to his work. It was merely a way to pass the time.

 

***

 

The Nemesis passed overhead. He only caught a small glimpse of the ship between the clouds but Megatron would know his ship anywhere.

Primus but he longed to shout and scream and wave his servos about to get their attention but he couldn’t, all he could do was stare at the spot where his ship had been and wonder if they had seen him. Surely not or they would have stopped, either to rescue him or for Starscream to gloat.

Freedom was so close and it had passed him by. It was the first time in an orbital cycle of captivity that Megatron allowed despair to take him.

He sank to his knees, letting his helm to bow until it rested on the soft grass. His claws flexed into the earth, gouging it and he simply gave into his depression.

He was not a creature given to emotional displays and even with not a soul to witness his shame this held true.  He stayed like that until the sky went dark and all hope of rescue or escape seemed like a distant dream.

***

 

The seals were his favorite creatures on The Pit. They were charming in their own way, despite his initial disgust at the soft bags of blubber.

They loved him, he tolerated them.

He was chest deep in the water and the seals swarmed him, picking at his armour where tiny sea creatures darted in and out of the seams in his armour.

When this had first happened Megatron had shouted and flailed and hadn’t returned to the water for an orbital cycle. The thought of organics inside of him was enough to make his plates lock up involuntarily but eventually he came around. While he didn’t enjoy it and never would it didn’t repulse him as much as it once had and he had even found a use for it.

The solvents Optimus continually supplied couldn’t get into the creases in his armour like a full sonic shower could and so he had found his armour becoming uncomfortably sticky around his joints and in his back plates. The salt water of the sea and the tiny creatures served to loosen the grime. As long as he thoroughly rinsed with fresh water and solvents after being in the sea the tiny creatures were beneficial.

The seals were a bonus. As much as he attempted to remain aloof their playful antics and complete lack of fear slowly won him over.

They darted between his pedes and he lightly brushed their slippery hides with the tips of his claws, careful not to injure them.

It was the small pleasures he had come to rely on when he felt hopeless or when the terrible agony returned.

The seals were a small pleasure and one that he delighted in.

 

***

 

He lay in the sun, half submerged in water, unable and unwilling to move. He was exhausted for reasons unknown. His tanks felt like they were going to expel at any moment and was experiencing a near constant vertigo. The sun warmed his plates and the coolness of the water on his midsection was a balm to the lingering and unending pain.

Fear was all he knew these days. Fear of what was happening to him. Fear of dying alone and forgotten. Fear of living and spending the rest of his days as a prisoner of this island.

He whimpered softly when a particularly painful burst in his midsection had him doubled over.

What was happening to him?

Was this Primes doing?

Was it a virus or something he had caught from this accursed organic planet?

His vents hurt from the strain of pumping so much air through his overheating systems.

He offlined his optics and breathed.

The pain was manageable.

He would live through this as he had lived through every pain and struggle he had encountered in his long life.

A part of him suspected that he was already dead and this was his eternal punishment.

 

***

 

It was a stellar cycle into his captivity that found Megatron sitting in the midst of the vast woods that covered a small section of The Pit. He rarely came to the woods but he felt the need for some shelter. He couldn’t reach the caves these days as the pain had taken to striking at random times the past few solar cycles, coming in bursts of sharp pain that had Megatron on his knees, crying out. The longer this kept up the longer the pain lasted and the more frequently it happened.

So he took the walk into the forest, found a spot that seemed ideal, in the shelter of a titanic tree that had been uprooted long before he had come to the island. There was a hollow big enough to fit Megatron and the vast system of roots provided a good shelter.

The next few joor saw him carefully and meticulously gathering branches and various foliage and creating a covering for the hollow.

He wasn’t certain what strange compulsion led him to do this but he felt a deep need to see this project completed.

Despite the growing busts of agony that had him crawling at points he didn’t stop until he had cleared the dirt in and around the hollow and set up a covered shelter big enough to house himself without being seen from the outside.

I was a fine shelter though his critical eye would have liked for something a bit more substantial than organic materials.

The sun was setting by the time he had completed his task and entered the shelter.

It was well into the night or early morning when the screams began.

Every animal in the woods stilled and were afraid as pained bellows sounded out through the forest. As time passed the bellows became cries and finally hoarse shrieks of pain.

Megatron moaned, clutching his midsection and wishing for death. Anything was preferable to this torture. Worse than the pain was the uncertainty. As time passed he became sure that he was not dying but he couldn’t fathom what was wrong with him.

He would be in incredible agony and his body would seize up only to have a brief respite before the pain returned.

It seemed never-ending. His pedes dug into the soft dirt and in a moment of pure instinct he heaved himself up, kneeling, shivering uncontrollably as coolant oozed from the seams of his armour.

Something was trying to claw its way out of him. Primus, was this how he was to die?

Megatron dug his claws into the ground and screamed as a powerfully crippling pain ripped through him, involuntarily offlining his optics.

He felt his interface panel click and slide open, exposing his valve.

He was so afraid. His body was performing actions beyond his control. He felt like he was being taken over, subjected to a will not his own.

Another scream pierced the silent forest and Megatron pushed, trying to expel the source of his pain.

The agony peaked and he let out a pained sob as something slid out of him. He collapsed on his side, panting and heaving and shaking.

A small sound reached his audials and he unconsciously felt around for the thing that had escaped his body. It was small and wet. He didn’t care, grabbing it and hauling the small wet thing to his chest.

Distantly he was aware of a hardline connection being formed but he was too exhausted to care.

The last thing he was aware of was curling protectively around the small wet thing and a new line of code coming into being with the words: ‘Creator Protocols Activated’.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you everyone for all your awesome reviews, it's been a genuine pleasure reading them.  
> As always this has not been beta read so any and all errors are mine.  
> Enjoy :D

Megatron stared down at the tiny mechling in his hand and nearly dropped it.

He had never felt such a deep and all consuming loathing for a living creature in all his life. Not even Prime elicited such a visceral hate as this tiny little creature who was staring up at him with wide white optics.

He put the creature down, stepped out of the shelter and walked away, not once turning back.

He left the woods entirely, continuing on across the entirety of The Pit, only stopping once he reached the other end and was unable to continue forward. Megatron was shaking with rage, his frame rattling with the force of his contained anger. He glared out at the ocean, watching the seagulls twist and turn in midair, fighting against the powerful ocean winds.

For a long moment the mech watched the birds in their dance as they were tossed about and flapped their wings in motions that, to a non-flyer, would seem chaotic and harsh. Megatron knew differently. He knew the feeling of being buffeted by the winds, playing with the unpredictable flow of air, allowing it to push and pull before finding his way through the twisting wind currents and making a graceful landing, completely in control.

The wind was an old friend of his.

Without a moment’s hesitation Megatron took a step forward into the wide open expanse of nothingness.

He fell, watching the ocean coming close with calm, unafraid optics.

At the last moment he triggered his transformation, feeling the shift twist his frame into his flyer alt mode.

His thrusters activated moments before impact, the heat of them turning water to steam and scorching rock as he jettisoned upwards, reaching speeds few living creatures could ever experience within moments of taking off.

He had no destination, no intentions of escape. All he wanted was the illusion of freedom, even if only for a moment.

The slave coding, perhaps reading no disobedience in his actions, didn’t activate and Megatron took full advantage, flying up and up. He pushed himself to his limits, up past the clouds, towards the warm sun, reaching the upper parts of the planets atmosphere within a few kliks. As the sky began to change from blue to black the slave coding forced him back.

He cut his thrusters, hanging in midair for a precarious second, neither flying nor falling. Gravity took over from there and he fell. The decent was slower than his ascent. He found the fall almost relaxing, the wind singing over the aerodynamic lines of his alt mode was a music all flyers danced to and he let himself go, slowly rotating around in a dizzying dance as the plummet brought him into the planets cloud cover.

When the island came into view he turned himself vertical, nose pointing towards the sky and powering up his thrusters, timing it so he slowed his decent and managed to transform a mere few feet above the ground, touching down and barely leaving a dent to show.

He hadn’t lost his touch.

The only flyer who had ever been able to surpass him in speed and dexterity in the air was Starscream, a fact that irked him more than he cared to admit. Even so, his skills in the air were formidable and he was pleased to see that despite several orbital cycles of being grounded his skills hadn’t degraded.

The flight had been somewhat therapeutic, if unwise. His frame felt fragile and brittle after being overexerted in both the ill advised strain of the flight and the birthing process. He reveled in the pain. It was hard won and served to sharpen his mind, giving him some much needed focus.

He had given birth. To a mechling. Mere orbital cycles after Prime had taken it upon himself to relieve Megatron of his seal.

Though there was no doubt as to who was responsible for his current situation Megatron was certain this was an unexpected event. He knew Prime well enough to know the mech would never subject an innocent mechling to Megatron or exile on an alien island.

This reeked of incompetence. The new Creator Protocol coding, something he had never heard of, was no doubt a direct result of the slave coding.

It was the incompetence that rankled him more than anything in this situation. For the fabled Prime, leader of the Autobots, Optimus really was one of the most rock, stupid mechs he had ever met. It probably never occurred to the Prime to test the new coding before implementing it. Megatron had been around enough scientists and performed enough illegal coding in his lifetime to know that introducing new coding without the proper beta testing and failsafes would often enough result in offshoot codes. Codes that reacted with the mechs or femmes own coding, releasing long dormant codes, corrupting code that was once perfectly functional, even creating entirely new strains of code.

Naturally Prime and Ratchet wouldn’t have known that. Scientists they were not.

His first instinct was to call Prime on his private comm., demand that he pick up his spawn and take it as far away from Megatron as he could. Another part of him just wanted to ignore the situation. He could wait and let nature take its course, the body could be disposed of in the ocean and not a single soul would have to know.

He wished he could but the infernal Creator Protocols seemed to take offense at Megatrons considering terminating his spawn.

Megatron snarled in frustration. He had no idea what Creator Protocols were but as far as he was concerned they were simply another form of slave coding, taking away his free will and binding him with rules and restrictions contrary to his true nature.

So he did the only thing that was in his power to do. He went to the transport container and downed a cube of energon, wishing all the while that he had some high grade.

Afterwards he wandered. He didn’t go too far or too fast as his body was weary and felt battered both inside and outside. His valve felt like it had been violated with a tree branch thanks to that creature.

First Prime, then his spawn, both using him for their own purposes. Both taking away his freedom, taking away his choice in the matter.

He felt sick.

He was tired, not just physically but mentally. The isolation was wearing on him, the forced inaction and lack of challenge at odds with his nature. He wanted to fight but he doubted he could take even Bumblebee in this state. He wanted to talk to somebody. He wanted Soundwave, the spys steady presence and lack of judgment would suit Megatrons current mood just fine.

Megatron was so lost in his thoughts he failed to realize his pedes had taken him back to the forest.

Not just to the forest but right to the crude shelter he had erected.

He stared at the shelter as though his gaze could burn it to the ground.

It didn’t burn to his disappointment and Megatron finally worked up the nerve to poke his head inside.

The large white optics of the mechling instantly focused on him and a happy gurgle erupted from the creature.

He immediately pulled away, taking a step back, leaving the shelter.

The gurgling continued and little chirps reached his audials.

The damned thing sounded far too happy.

Megatron inhaled deeply and crawled back into the shelter. The mechling moved its tiny limbs in excitement.

He picked the small, dirty thing up in his claws. It was small. No bigger than a human. Its optics were the white of a newborn mechling and its limbs were powerful for one so young and new to the world. The mechling didn’t cry and seemed quite aware of its surroundings. Megatron didn’t know anything about mechlings but he supposed this seemed as fine a specimen as any.

And of course it would be. This was his own creation and Megatron felt a fierce burst of pride in himself.

Against all odds, as shackled and isolated as he was he had still managed to defeat Prime in a small way. He had created new life. This wasn’t the creation of the all-spark, this wasn’t a creation of Autobot making, this was a pure Decepticon creation and it was his.

The Creator Protocols hummed happily in the back of his processor.

“Little one,” he said in a voice hoarse from screaming and disuse. “I am your creator, Megatron, leader of the Decepticon army, former Gladiator in the Pits of Kaon, future ruler of Cybertron. I welcome you, my heir.”

The little mechling flailed its uncoordinated limbs about.

For the first time since his captivity Megatron felt something like hope.

 

***

 

The next day he made the trip to the only freshwater source on the island with a rag on one hand and a mechling in the other.

The little thing was still dirty, covered in birthing fluids that had long since dried and dirt that had become so thick it was impossible to tell what colour the little thing was. He wasn’t sure if using solvents was safe on one so young so he would have to make do with plain water.

The mechling seemed intrigued by the running water when they came upon it. It was barely more than a large puddle created by a small river of water but it would serve for something the size of a mechling. Megatron dumped the creature in the pond unceremoniously and began vigorously scrubbing the soft plating. The mechling thrashed around but didn’t seem overly bothered by the clumsy treatment. The tiny fish darting out of the rapidly spreading cloud of dirt seemed to intrigue the mechling and the process of washing the small frame became slightly more tedious as the little mech tried to catch the fish, making the already small and slippery frame that much harder to hold on to.

Megatron mostly ignored the mechlings curious flailing, more intent on scrubbing away the dirt and finding out the colouring underneath. If the mechling was white, red or blue he was going to kill something.

As the dirt sloughed away Megatron was pleased to find his mechling was neither of those colours. Rather,  upon liberating the mechling from the water, he was revealed to be an uncommon shade of pearl grey with faint purple accents.  Megatron was pleased; his mechling was an attractive little ‘bot, and, he couldn’t help but think, strong and well behaved for one so new to the world. However, he couldn’t help but notice the mechlings frame had a very Autobot look to it. The small frame being a near exact replica of Primes own frame right down to the distinctive antenna and the tiny retracted battlemask.

He grimaced slightly. Somewhere in the universe Primus was laughing at him.

He dunked the mechling in the stream again, scrubbing at its little helm while the mechling ogled at him through the water, appearing terribly fascinated by the underwater perspective.

When he was done, he hefted the creature up onto his shoulder where it instinctively held on to his shoulder spikes.

The air and the sun would dry the mechling. He could distantly feel the creature creating a hardline connection between them and feeding as he walked. If the little parasite wasn’t his offspring he would have killed it for that, hardline connections were something he loathed. Megatron was a ‘bot who rarely even indulging in interfacing as he despised having such intimate connections with other ‘bots. Already this mechling had completely torn apart all physical boundaries he preferred to keep between himself and other mechs and femmes. That the little fragger decided to set up his own hardline connection without Megatrons say so now seemed like a minor bother where once Megatron would have been half mad with rage over the perceived disrespect.

The Pit had softened him.

Ah well, the creature needed to feed and it’s not like it could process normal energon without Megatrons systems to filter out potentially life threatening impurities.

“You should be glad you belong to me, spawn.” Megatron addressed the sparkling. “You have taken liberties that would have seen other mechs long since deactivated.”

The mechling chirped at him.

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

The mechling stayed silent.

Megatron was satisfied with that.

His mind now strayed to other thoughts. He needed to get off this island and he needed to do it without Prime learning about the mechling. But how?

Primes direct orders seemed too thorough to allow for an escape or even the possibility of an escape. Megatron had tried countless times only to be rendered useless by the slave codes crippling punishment for disobeying orders.

He had even tried using the human’s networks to send a message to his Decepticons and that had proved a terrific failure. Prime was clearly monitoring his usage of the human’s network and had terminated his connection the first time Megatron had tried to connect with the outside world. It hadn’t been restored since which was unfortunate as the human network had offered some rather amusing distractions at times.

It seemed that despite his renewed urgency to escape he was in the same position he had been since coming to The Pit.

Trapped.

 

***

 

The rain was something Megatron absolutely loathed about this human planet. It struck his armour uncomfortably, creating a strange resonation that echoed throughout his entire frame. What it did to the ground beneath his pedes was even worse, turning already unstable materials into a soupy mixture seemingly designed to catch between his plating and make walking difficult if not impossible.

The only reprieve seemed to be either hiding in the caves or taking to the water.

Megatron choose neither. As much as he hated the rain he was not to be defeated by the chaotic nature of the humans planet and so he stayed, his pedes sinking into the sand as the waves washed past them, rain striking a melody against his armour and a mechling at his feet playing in the surf while he stared out at the horizon in contemplation.

Lightning flashed above them.

Soon after the true power of the planet made itself known as thunder began roaring overhead and lightning split the sky in a magnificent display of power that left even him in awe.

He had seen this light show only twice since coming to The Pit and every time he was mesmerized by it. The planet almost seemed to have a life of its own at times, a consciousness that was determined not to let the inhabitants of Earth feel too safe or too powerful. With every fork of lightning and every rumble of thunder the waves grew bigger and bigger. He picked his mechling up, placing it safely on his shoulder before turning his optics back to the electric storm.

The planet seemed to be speaking to Megatron. He could read a story in the winds and the lightning. A story of the planets birth. Chaotic and violent, unpredictable and harsh, there was little room on this planet at the beginning for creatures that were soft. Only the strong survived, created in the forge of trial and difficulty. And yet, he thought, as time went on the planet became less violent, providing a safe haven to the creatures that inhabited the planet. Yes it was chaotic, often cruel and unpredictable but it could also be a paradise. The planet was not merely an engine of destruction but also a keeper and creator of life.

His optics glowed bright in the dark.

He couldn’t help but feel he had a kinship with this planet. They were perhaps more alike than he had imagined.

The waves rose high, battering against his chest plates, whirling a dangerous dance around him. He held his ground against the maelstrom, not giving an inch. The mechling on his shoulder was as silent as he was, showing no fear. Its Creator was powerful; it had no cause to fear the planets wrath.

Megatron took satisfaction in his mechlings lack of fear.

It was a long while before the storm calmed and the sun began to shine again.

When Megatron left the beach it was with a renewed sense of confidence and purpose.

His goals, once unclear even to his own mind, were realigned. Cybertron was dead, his race on the brink of extinction, the remainder of their race in a mad scramble for energon deposits and relics of a golden era long since passed.

Destruction, once his only goal, was now secondary.

What was destruction without creation?

That lack of duality had nearly led to the extinction of their species. Even now, realizing his error, it may be too late to bring them back from the brink of extinction.

He needed both. Destruction and creation. Decepticon and Autobot. Death and life.

They had been too long with one and not the other.

He could change that.

If only he had the chance.

 

***

 

“You need a name, my Creation.”

The mechling clicked up at him from his position on the floor. He was up sitting by himself now, a feat that Megatron personally considered to be a worthy achievement of one so young.

“Have I ever told you of how I got my name?” The little mechs optics flickered and his helm cocked to the side. Primus but he was looking more like his Sire, a fact Megatron had made peace with the moment it became clear the mechling favored his Sires body structure. “I was not always called Megatron. That is a designation I choose for myself in rebellion of the caste system I had been born into. My original designation was D-16, I was a slave and a Gladiator, and our designations were nothing more than a convenience for our Masters. As you can see from my current situation, history tends to repeat itself in some form or another.”

He frown briefly as the memories of his past came back to him, every injury, every moment of injustice, every humiliation. It was a dark time.

“I was born a laborer in a small settlement in Kaon, I don’t remember the designations of my Caretakers, for you see, in those days there were no Creators or Sires, young mechs were given life by way of the all-spark. I was taken very young and made to work in the mines. It was grueling work and I didn’t see the sun for many stellar cycles while in the mines.” He remembered those days. Dark days. Days without end and without hope. “Even at such a young age I was ambitious. As ambitious as a young slave could be, I suppose. I had ideas about freedom and a life outside of my caste. I never shared these ideas aloud with my fellow slaves but I spent many long stellar cycles thinking and planning.”

The mechlings attention was fixed firmly on his Creator and Megatron could almost believe the little ‘bot could understand him. He reached down a picked the mechling up, placing it on his knee.

 “I began to build a reputation in the mines as a mech not to be trifled with and eventually my reputation caught the interests of my second master, a femme who owned Gladiators and pitted them together in illegal combat. It was my appearance that convinced her to purchase me. I was a mech seemingly made for combat. I was good at it, very good. I rose in rank and reputation until I was the champion of the Pits. It was only then that I had my audience and the means to make them listen to me.”

His mechling patted his chest plate playfully.

“I was not a mech to sit idly by while my own kind were being subjugated and killed for sport. I longed for freedom and a world of equality where a mech such as you, born to a lowly Gladiator, would not be forced to share in the fate of their Caretaker simply by being born into the wrong family. So I began to speak out. I gave the people of Kaon and elsewhere a voice. The words I spoke were, at the time, revolutionary and the slaves and lower castes were moved by words of a world where no mech or femme would be bound into slavery or labour and subjected to the abuse of the corrupt higher classes. It was during this time I changed my name to something more appropriate for a leader of the cause, the Decepticon cause as I named it. I took my name from Megatronus, one of the original Thirteen transformers, one whose name I felt held the sort of power and command I wished to embody.”

He was walking now, going nowhere in particular but feeling the need to move, feeling restless.

“It was during this period in my life that I met Orion Pax. He was the first mech I ever called friend and brother. Such a pair you had never seen, little one. I, a former Gladiator, and he, a simple librarian. Most did not understand our friendship, even I couldn’t fathom it, we were from different worlds but I was intrigued and charmed by him. You simply did not meet people like Orion in Kaon. He was a soft, pampered thing, I hated him when we first met but he had a good spirit and I let myself be taken in by his naïve viewpoints. We were of one mind but our approach differed too much for us to reconcile once our friendship dissolved. He desired peace, I desired war. You must understand, little mechling, I believe no change comes without bloodshed. The changes I was proposing were radical and violently opposed by the privileged few. The peaceful changes Orion Pax proposed were a pretty fantasy. I knew the ruling class would never willingly hand over power to the mechs they had enslaved and stood upon for so long. We needed revolution. We needed war. Orion … did not share my views.”

He was at the edge of The Pit now, staring out at the vast and seemingly endless ocean.

“The rest, as the humans say, is history. We went to war, Cybertron fell and our race was scattered. Orion Pax became Optimus Prime, a mech as far removed from his original cause as I have become. A mech who is the cause of my current enslavement and exile … and your Sire.”

The mechlings helm was nuzzling against his neck cables and Megatron wasn’t even sure if he was awake anymore.

“The least you could do is stay awake during the story of Cybertrons fall. Very few mechs have ever heard my account of these events, you should be honored.”

The mechling raised its helm and seemed to realize they were in a different location, chirping excitedly at the ocean.

“I _should_ give you the designation Pit Spawn but even I am not that cruel. No, I wish to give you a designation that embodies the best parts of my past and what I hope for the future. You are the first of a new generation; you need not be tied down by my mistakes and old feuds that should have been put to rest ages ago. So I will give you the designation of the most good hearted, idealistic fool I have ever known: Orion Pax.”

Serious white optics stared at him and a tiny battle mask slid into place.

Megatron threw back his helm and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Next chapter will probably be a bit longer coming out than previous chapters, I'm trying to flesh out the skeleton of a chapter I've written and I'm a very slow writer. D:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argh, I'm sorry for the wait time guys. This chapter was hard to write but hopefully it is on par with previous chapters.  
> As always all errors in grammar and spelling are my own.
> 
> ....Oh, and THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! You all kept these fingers clacking away on the keyboard even when I was getting frustrated

Orion loved the wildlife on The Pit. He cooed delightedly at the birds flying overhead, even at the bold seagulls who insisted on dive bombing the mechling when Megatron left him unattended. The birds seemed mostly suspicious of the small metal thing but often enough perched on Orion if they spotted a tasty morsel on or near him, the birds clearly having lived a life free of both human and Cybertronian influence to the point where they had no fear of a mechling or his Creator. 

Megatron had his own share of birds using him as a temporary perch, at first he had shooed them away but over time he began to accept it with as much dignity as he could muster given the mess they made of his hide.

Such was the life he lived.

If the birds drew excited coos from Orion then the squirrels drove the mechling to near insane levels of excitement with their twitching tails and their fast moving motions. Megatron spent many a cycle watching his Creations attempts to play with the squirrels, a futile effort that more often than not ended with the mechling losing his balance and rolling onto his back, gazing up at the sky in surprise as though gravity had unexpectedly snuck up on him.

It was nearly embarrassing the amount of entertainment Megatron got from watching Orions antics. Megatron violently shunned the word ‘cute’ from his vocabulary but he couldn’t deny his spark softened when he was able to witness such innocent joy at things Megatron would never have though to give a second glance to. If he was to be perfectly honest he hadn’t even noticed the island was inhabited by squirrels until they had caught Orions attention one day.

His observation skills could clearly use some work and he berated himself for his lack of attention to detail.

It was in a moment of pure indulgence that Megatron took Orion to meet his own favorite earth creatures.

Orion and the seals got along famously.

The moment Megatron placed his mechling chest deep in the open waters the seals swam up to him without hesitation, eager to examine the new plaything. The younger seals in particular were almost aggressive in their curiosity and within moments Orion was barely visible under a mass of blubber and eagerly flapping flippers. All Megatron could hear of his Creation under the noise of waves and the barking of the seals was an endless stream of excited clicks and chirps.

The seals were little more than mechlings themselves, eager and clumsy in their actions. Had Orion not been a creature of metal he would surely have been hurt, instead he thrashed about, grabbing flippers and tails and slapping the grey hides, overwhelmed with the new creatures but eager to play. Water foamed around the mass of moving bodies as the waves rocked the seals and the mechling back and forth.

Eventually, far too long in Megatrons opinion, the seals lost interest and went their own way to sun on the rocks or to catch their next meal, save for a few seals that stayed close by, taking a fancy to the new metal animal.

Megatron took Orion from the water once it was obvious he had tired himself out, bringing the mechling to the rocks, near the seals resting grounds but far enough away so as not be perceived as an intrusion by worried mother seals that were carefully guarding their pups.

The mechling rested on his chest plates and they lay together in the sun.

Megatron fell into a deep recharge, thinking as he drifted off that this was the happiest he could remember being since his days in Iacon, in the company of a soft spoken data clerk.

 

***

 

Orion was restless.

Megatron watched his Creation fidgeting nervously and was at a loss as to what was wrong. Orion wasn’t a mechling given to fidgeting and temper tantrums but lately he seemed … unwell.

Not physically unwell but the mechlings mental state was abnormal. It had started off small, he would catch Orion staring off into space and making repetitive clicks until Megatron pulled him out of his strange stupor.  Megatron had assumed it was normal mechling behavior but the strange repetitive ticks continued.

Orion would sit in the grass and dig and dig without purpose, one little dirty servo scraping repeatedly at the same patch of earth as his optic stared blankly into the sky.

Megatron tried his best to help his mechling, tried giving Orion new things to play with and new sights to see but the hypnotically repetitive ticks continued.

His lack of experience was painfully obvious. He didn’t know how to care for a mechling, didn’t even know how to meet his own Creations needs aside from the most basic of functions. His attempts to play with the mechling were awkward and stunted at best and he was ill suited to keeping one so young and curious entertained, being by nature a stoic and serious mech, not one given to playfulness of any kind. He sometimes talked to Orion but his Creation was fast outgrowing such simple diversions.

He made do for a time, able to distract the mechling enough that his increasingly disturbing behavior was momentarily eased.

All seemed to be going fairly well until he woke from recharge one night to a strange clanging sound.

Orion sat in a corner of the transport container, rhythmically slamming his helm against the metal wall with all the force his small body could muster. The wall was dented where Orions helm had made contact.

Megatron bolted to his pedes with a startled shout of his Creations name, grabbing Orion up into his servos and giving the mechling a light shake.

Orion made a sound that sent a chill through his struts, a long, high pitched static feedback.

Eventually the mechling fell into recharge.

Megatron didn’t move, holding his Creation close. He found himself praying to Primus, an incoherent prayer, frantic and afraid.

He didn’t rest that night.

Or the next.

 

***

 

The day Megatron let go of his pride was the day he truly understood what it was to love another.

Orion’s erratic behaviors, once a strange quirk, were growing daily in both frequency and severity. Megatron knew enough of mechlings to know it was nothing wrong with Orion, it was likely a problem with his environment.

The Pit, while large and somewhat interesting was a wholly inadequate place for a mechling, unable to meet Orions increasing need for stimulation and growth. Even having gone this long without the care of a medic was something that was unacceptable.

His Creation deserved better than Megatron could provide. He needed interaction and stimulation beyond the ocean and a few seals. It was becoming apparent every passing cycle that Orion Pax was outgrowing the island. The restlessness was turning self destructive and ever since that night in the transport container Orion’s nervous ticks had only become more disturbing and harmful.

Megatron watched his Creation with defeated optics.

He knew he couldn’t keep Orion.

Mechlings were creatures that required an environment rich with things to explore and new faces to process. On Cybertron the Caretaking unit where mechlings were educated was an enormous building, colourful and filled with people and toys and puzzles and holovids of every sort and visitors were free to come in and interact with the mechlings. His Creation could never reach his full potential being stuck on an island with only his Creator for company. On Cybertron an environment such as this would be considered unfit for a mechling, lacking as it was in basic necessities. If they were on Cybertron Megatron could be put up for trial for subjecting a mechling to an unsuitable environment.

Cybertron was gone but the fact remained that Orion couldn’t stay.

He stared at his Creation from afar, watching him struggle to find something to play with, sensing his loneliness and isolation.

Megatron knew what he had to do.

The walk to the comm. seemed unreal, as though it was happening to someone else. He was resolved and his resolve was the only thing keeping him from taking Orion outside and never looking at the comm. again.

He accessed the computer system, brought up Optimus Primes personal comm. line and accessed it.

The wait until Optimus’ face appeared on the screen seemed to take eons and for the first time in a long time his tanks roiled with sickness.

“Megatron?”

A sneer appeared on his faceplates automatically. “Yes, Prime. Forget about me so soon?”

“I had not expected you to contact me,” Prime admitted cautiously.

 “Yes, well, you said you would drop by and you never did. I couldn’t help but wonder if you were still alive.”

Optimus’s optics narrowed suspiciously. “Did you comm. me to make jokes, Megatron or is there something you need?”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask for my freedom,” he said flippantly, enjoying the look of shame that momentarily passed across the Primes face.

“Yes,” Optimus said without hesitation. Megatron paused slightly, taken aback by Primes unexpectedly firm tone.

“Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,” he replied softly.

“I will not justify myself to you, Megatron, not after all you have done. All the lives you have taken.”

“If I am to be sentenced to exile then it is only fitting I should share my prison with a mech as guilty of murder as I am. For a mech so quick to pass judgment on me you are strangely averse to passing the same harsh sentence on yourself. I suppose confinement, rape and slavery is perfectly justified as long as you keep it safely away from the public eye,” he said calmly, almost conversationally. “Or better yet, as long as you’ve rationalized it enough that it seems like a mercy.”

Prime wore his emotions openly and it was much like reading a data pad, every thought was displayed as clearly as if Prime was narrating his inner thoughts to Megatron. The regret and shame was clear but so was the unwavering commitment to his course of action.

“I did what I felt must be done,” Optimus replied some time later, quiet and subdued.

“Yes, and then you left me to rot alone on an alien island,” Megatron snarled, wishing dearly to hit something to relieve his frustrations.

“Would you truly have preferred me there,” Optimus asked. “Would you enjoy the company of Autobots? Would you enjoy seeing the face of the mech who had committed such atrocities upon you?”

“Guilt doesn’t suit you, Prime. You should have just killed me. A clean death would give you no cause for guilt.”

Optimus shook his head slowly. “I could never.”

“Why,” Megatron asked, insistent for he truly wanted an answer. “We are at war. I am the commander of the opposing side, killing me is your duty.”

“I could not take your life. The life of one I once knew to be a good and honorable mech.”

Megatron sneered at such Autobot sentimentality. “You believe I can be saved,” he mocked.

“I do,” Prime said sincerely, not rising to the bait. “You could be so much more, do so much more than you have. You once had such grand visions for Cybertron, for us. We could have united Cyberton and brought about a new golden age.”

“That is in the past, Prime. Cybertron is gone.”

“It does not have to remain that way, you and I both know there is always a way. As long as we live there is hope. Together we could do so much more. I know what I have done is unforgivable, I know you would have preferred death but I know that even more than death you long for Cybertron. Our goals are as they have always been, one in the same, and I could not let you die when the possibility was there for our goals to be realized. We could do it still, old friend,” Optimus said earnestly. The hope in his optics was painful to see.

It was such a seductive proposition but he could not agree to it.

The future Optimus proposed sounded ideal but it would be tainted. How could they ever be equal when he was enslaved? It would be history repeating itself and he would rather see his Decepticons die in honorable combat than be turn into the new lower caste of Cybertron while the Autobots took their place as upper caste. Optimus must see the future he wanted could only end in slavery and corruption, headed by none other than the Prime himself, convinced as he was of his own unfailing righteousness. Idealistic fool.

 

“I refuse. The world you want would be built on a foundation as rotten as that of the old Cybertron. I will not be your pet slave, Prime.”

“That is not the future I had in mind. For either of us.”

“And yet that is the future as it would be. For you to expect it to be anything else is foolishness bordering on hubris. The future you propose was gone the moment you activated that accursed slave coding.”

Prime was silent for a long moment, brows drawn tight in thought, before nodding his acceptance. “I understand.”

Neither spoke for a long moment and Megatron was surprised to find he had nearly forgotten the reason he had comm’d Prime.

Not being a mech blessed with a great deal of tact he simply said, “As interesting as this conversation has been I must ask that you come pick up your spawn now.”

The look on Primes face was priceless. Megatron could see the confusion, how he was trying to process if this was a joke or a trap and what Megatron’s game was.

 “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Megatron, but I don’t find it –”

Megatron leaned down and picked up Orion from his position on the floor, staring up at Prime with a look of awe in his optics. Optimus’ words caught with a screech in his vocalizer the moment Orion came into view. Had it been any other occasion he would have laughed at the sound. Megatron could only imagine what was going through Primes processor but shock and horror seemed like a good guess if the expression on his face was any indication.

“Primus,” Prime gasped. “Where did you – how – explain this Megatron!”

“I would think you could explain it better than I could. I was in stasis for most of it. ‘A transfer of genetic materials’, I believe you said, what a clever way to put it. That was misdirection worthy of Starscream.”

Prime looked like he was about to purge as his optics took in the mechling, clearly seeing the resemblance to himself in the tiny antennae and the battle mask. His form was a near perfect replica of Primes save for the little nubs on his shoulders that would one day be spikes and the tiny claws tipping his fingers. “He is mine? I don’t understand. How can this be,” Prime choked out.

“No, Prime, the mechling is mine. You merely assisted in ‘a transfer of genetic materials’. Regardless, you ought to come pick him up before I dispose of him. I grow weary of having a mechling around, I much prefer my solitude.”

“Megatron, if you harm one—“

“You’ll do nothing, Prime,” Megatron said. “What could you do to me that hasn’t already been done? Offline me? I would welcome it. Fortunately I’m feeling generous so come fetch your spawn and I’ll restrain myself from doing anything … unfortunate to it.”

Prime looked honestly afraid, as though he truly believed Megatron would make good on his threats. It gave him some satisfaction that he could elicit such a reaction from Prime, but more than that he felt disgusted at the thought of harming Orion.

“I’ll be there within the cycle. Please, Megatron, don’t do anything to the mechling. I can’t believe even you would harm your own kin.”

“Hurry and we won’t have to find out.”

He disconnected, searing the image of Primes stricken face in his mind. It was almost amusing. Almost. That Prime thought so low of him that he truly believed Megatron capable of harming his own Creation, it was a sickening thought. He knew Orion would be raised to hate him, would be raised never knowing who his Creator was and why he had taken the path that had lead to Cybertrons destruction. Perhaps young Orion wouldn’t even be told of his existence and would only have brief, unclear memories of a large, grey mech standing by the sea.

The moment he took a step back he fell to his knees, unable to stand. He stared at the blank screen and felt empty.

Tiny servos patted his face plates. His optics met those of Orion’s.

“He will treat you well. Optimus doesn’t have it in him to treat you badly, regardless of your origins.”

Orion chirped at him and pulled his servos away, marveling at the coolant covering them. Megatron hadn’t cried in ages, longer than this planet had been inhabited, and he wasn’t even sure why he was now. He didn’t feel like he was crying, he felt numb.

“You will forget about me, I have come to peace with that. It is for the best. I am not a good mech. I have killed and tortured and I have enjoyed it. I brought about the fall of my world. I am the reason there are no more mechlings left. Many ‘bots have called me a monster and they are right. And yet, the only thing I regret is having known you.”

Orion clapped his servos together and squealed as the coolant splashed around.

Megatron bowed his helm until it rested against Orion’s and let himself mourn.


	5. Chapter 5

Optimus arrived via space bridge a short time later. Megatron had finished his mournful indulgence and was once again in control of his emotions.

He wasn’t surprised to find Ratchet with the other mech, trailing slightly behind, blades out and at the ready. Megatron didn’t see the need, he was unarmed and at the mercy of the slave coding, he couldn’t kill them even if he wanted to.

He held Orion close. The sight of Prime made his energon boil. He truly hated the mech for what had been done to him. Every moment of frustration and helplessness and terror at not knowing a mechling was growing within came back to him.

This was the mech he was going to entrust Orion to? One who would violate another mech to suit his own ends?

Clearly they were thinking similarly distressing thoughts about him.

The two bots stared at him and the mechling in horror.

Megatron could only imagine what a sight they made. Their worst foe, Decepticon Warlord and the subject of many an Autobots nightmare with a mechling cradled in his servos. If the situation hadn’t been quite so serious he might have found it amusing.

As it was Megatron was somewhat less than amused. His spark throbbed painfully in his chest and the urge to run was becoming an all consuming need.

He ruthlessly quashed the weak urges. He would do as he had always done, face down that which would make him weak and overcome it.

“By the all-spark, it’s true,” Ratchet said.

“It does seem to defy all logic, doesn’t it,” Megatron quipped drily.

“How?”

“You could explain better than I, medic. I was only aware of the mechlings existence on the day of its birth.”

Both ‘bots cringed slightly, whether from guilt or disgust or the sheer unnaturalness of it all he couldn’t tell. Megatron took a great deal of pleasure in their discomfort. Let them experience some of the horror and disgust he had felt.

It was Optimus who broke the silence. “May I touch him,” he asked quietly.

Megatron gave a short nod.

Optimus nervously moved forward until he was within striking distance. He paused as though unsure if Megatron was going to make a move against him. Megatron kept a neutral look on his face and Optimus closed the distance between them, reaching out a servo and gently placing it on Orions helm.

Megatron quashed the urge to strike at Prime, knowing the slave coding would only punish him for his efforts. Optimus had no right to touch Orion.

The mechling didn’t seem to mind however and eagerly clicked and chirped at Optimus, raising his servos to grab at the new mech. The enjoyment on Orions face was clear. White optics darted between his Creator, Prime and Ratchet, as though confirming in his own processor that the two strange mechs weren’t his creator in disguise.

“I had believed I had seen the last mechling on Cybertron. I could never have imagined, here on earth, and with you.” Optimus stepped away. “Megatron, I must apologize. It seemed the only option at the time but it was wrong. And for me to leave you alone all this time after I had -- I was a coward. You must understand I had never imagined this as a possibility. I swear upon my very life, Megatron, I never intended this.”

Megatron was silent. What could he say? Optimus was right. It _was_ wrong and he _was_ a coward. At any other time he would have gloated, held this over Primes head as an example of everything he had ever said about Autobots confirmed as truth. He couldn’t muster up the will to gloat. He was too tired and weary.

“I am sorry. Truly. As happy as I am to see a mechling again I wish it hadn’t come through these circumstances.”

Megatron held Orion closer. “As do I.”

They stared at each other, Megatron glaring, Optimus apologetic.

Ratchet choose this time to make himself known. “Megatron. I would like to perform some tests, if you don’t mind. Physical reproduction is something we had never considered before. Until I saw this I wouldn’t have believed it myself. This could be a turning point for us.”

Megatron eyed the medic up and down before nodding. “You may perform your tests.”

The medic was ecstatic and immediately began rambling on in medical jargon. Megatron was never very skilled in medical terms and procedures. While Knockout learned long ago not to bore his Master with such things Ratchet had clearly never learned the subtle art of laymans terms and kept on talking to Megatron in what might as well be a foreign language all the while running a scanner over his frame.

Orion seemed absolutely enchanted, staring wide optic’d at the scanner as though it were a gift from Primus himself.

Optimus looked on pensively.

“May I hold him,” Optimus asked.  Megatron froze, immediately rejecting the idea. He took a step back. Ratchet dropped into a battle ready stance at the sudden movement. Optimus simply stared at Megatron with an expression that could only be pity. Megatron didn’t want his pity. “You care about him.”

“The mechling is my Creation.”

Optimus nodded his understanding. “I was under the impression that the mechlings life was in danger. I was mistaken.” He seemed uncertain as to how to continue. “The mechling is obviously loved and well taken care of. It …. would be a shame to separate one so young from his Creator.”

“I didn’t call you here on a whim, Prime,” he responded harshly. “I would prefer death to seeing my Creation in the care of an Autobot but I have little choice in the matter. Would you see the last remaining mechling live in exile with a fallen Warlord? What does this island have to offer a mechling? How can a mech such as I, who knows nothing but war and battle, care for one so young? He would be best surrounded by ‘bots like your Bumblebee and Arcee, even that Bulkhead seems the sort who would be better suited to Caretaking. “

Optimus looked pained. Behind him Ratchet was looking at Megatron with an expression of disbelief and something else that Megatron couldn’t identify.

“Take him, Prime.”

“Megatron—“

He shoved the mechling at Prime, earning a startled cry from Orion as Prime fumbled and held the mechling tight.

Before he could change his mind Megatron turned on his heel and walked away, ignoring Optimus’s calls and Orions sudden confused cries. Primus, how he wanted to run back and reclaim the mechling for his own but he didn’t. It was better this way.

“Megatron! I don’t even know his designation!”

“I call him Orion Pax,” Megatron called back, not halting his stride.

He kept walking, away from Prime, away from the cries of Orion.

 

***

 

Life on The Pit returned to a somewhat normal pace. He drank energon, he roamed, he stared out at the ocean and occasionally went down to the beach.

Everything was as it had been.

He hated it.

That first night after Prime and Ratchet had left with Orion Megatron had systematically destroyed the entire forest. He had made the mistake of going back to the small shelter he had made before Orions birth. It was just as he had left it and that infuriated him. He wanted everything to reflect how much had changed. It seemed wrong for the sun to shine and the forest to be so green and peaceful when he felt nothing but darkness swallowing him up from the inside.

He destroyed the shelter in a fit of rage and didn’t stop until the entire forest was gone.

There were no witnesses to his cries of rage. Not a living soul saw the half crazed mech tearing trees up by their roots, or sinking his claws into the ground and throwing massive rocks into the ocean while issuing challenging battle cries to the silent forest.

When there was nothing left to destroy his rage turned inward and he began clawing at his helm, gouging lines across his armoured hide that welled up with energon, over and over until he was too exhausted to continue.

He knelt in the ruins of the forest and he felt nothing.

 

***

Optimus truly believed himself to be a mech that, despite his flaws, tried his utmost to be a symbol of all he wished his Autobots, and indeed all Cybertronians to emulate.

It wasn’t vanity, though he knew of a ‘bot or two who would disagree, rather it was that he believed with a position of leadership came the responsibility to be a role model. How could he expect those under his command to do any less than he would himself?

Ever since he had become Prime he had lived by that standard. He would never expect the ‘bots who followed him to do anything he wasn’t willing to do, likewise he wouldn’t expect them to display behaviors Optimus himself wouldn’t uphold himself. He didn’t take his role as Prime lightly. He believed in what he fought for, he believed in his morals and ideals and he expected those under his command to follow the ideals that he tried to exemplify.

That way of life had served him for orns.

Until now.

Here he was, holding the mechling he had sired upon an unwilling mech.

For the first time in a long time Optimus felt like the worst kind of fraud.

Not since his early days, fresh from the Archives and new to the role of Prime, had he felt as though everything he was and everything he was trying to do was a sham.

He was everything Megatron had accused him of and worse.

“Optimus,” said Ratchet carefully, “maybe you should sit down. It will be a while before the others get back, we should figure out what to do. How to explain this.”

Optimus stared down at the recharging mechling. The poor thing had cried itself into recharge when Megatron had left and was even now restless and nervous. Its little pedes twitched, tapping slightly on the examination table.

“I won’t explain to them, Ratchet. I will tell them the truth. The mistakes I have made are unforgivable and I will be judged accordingly.”

Ratchet seemed to hesitate over what he was going to say. If the troubled expression on his faceplates was any indication Prime wasn’t going to like what his old friend was going to say.

“Optimus. You are one of the best mechs I know. I have followed you into the Pit and back and would do it again. You know that, I know that, everybody knows that.”

“Ratchet, I don’t need reassurance,” Prime chided softly.

“Just listen to me you big idiot. I’m not trying to reassure you, I’m trying to make a point. I follow you but you listen to my advice. No leader works in a void and very few leaders take action without consultation. I am as much a part of this as you are.”

“And yet I am your Commander. Therefore the responsibility will be mine. I won’t have you taking the blame for actions that were my own, nor will I have you taking responsibility for a plan that I conceived.”

“Prime! Will you stop talking and listen to me. Please,” he added as an afterthought. “I’m not trying to reassure you or take the blame for you. I’m telling you that you did what needed to be done. War isn’t pretty and we both have done things in the past that in times of peace would have been unthinkable. Even the thought of what we’ve done turns my tanks but it needed to be done. You and I both know this has been a turning point for us in the war. As wrong as it was I don’t believe it was the wrong course of action. Megatron is dangerous. More importantly, Megatron is clever and charismatic and a good leader. Without him the Decepticons are weakened. I’m not going to make excuses for what we did but I will say that you can’t blame yourself because anyone else in your position would have done the same, maybe worse.”

Optimus looked like he was going to speak again but Ratchet held up a servo. Optimus looked slightly annoyed at the gesture and Ratchet had to remind himself that he wasn’t Primes Caretaker and couldn’t order his Commander around as though he were a mechling.

“You have to realize that as important as Megatron is to the Decepticon cause, you are equally, if not more important to the Autobot cause. Not as a Commander or a fighter but as a symbol. You stand for everything we fight for. The Decepticons would take what we have done here and use it to tear us apart. Nothing demoralizes a cause as much as a fallen hero.”

Optimus narrowed his optics, understanding beginning to dawn on him. “You’re saying we should hide what we’ve done?”

Ratchet nodded. “This is the wrong time and place in this fight to make ourselves into monsters, especially to our own side. It would destroy those young ‘bots that look up to you. It would strengthen the Decepticons who would use Megatron as a rallying point. Whatever advantages we’ve gained would be lost.”

This time Optimus sat down, feeling weary and every bit his age. Two sides dueled within him, the practical and the idealistic. He knew Ratchet was right and yet in his spark he knew that by going down this path he was ever so slowly turning into everything he was fighting against.

In some ways perhaps Megatron was right. Maybe he was a hypocrite. Perhaps Decepticons, as cruel and brutal as they could be, were perhaps simply more honest about their brutality while those of old Cybertron hid the very same brutality underneath a layer of morals and good intentioned appearances. Optimus had seen it back on old Cybertron and had fought against it and now he was finding that same filth, that same corruption and abuse of power in himself.

He was the mech that would turn Megatron, the slag maker himself, into a sympathetic victim.

The hypocrisy of his actions ate at him.

And still Ratchet was right.

Optimus’ servos clenched and he longed to use them. To fight in real honest combat instead of plotting in quiet rooms with only his quickly fading morals as the only voice of sanity left to him.

“If I am to remain quiet then it will be with a condition. This secret is not mine to tell. It is Megatrons.”

“Optimus?”

“I must do this. Megatron will be released; if he wishes to share the details of his imprisonment then I will deal with the consequences as they come.” Ratchet looked like he wanted to strongly object and this time it was Optimus who held up a servo. “We will win this war but we won’t do it by these methods. We have fought this war on the basis of building a new Cyberton, a united Cybertron that will not be ruled by the same greed and corruption and moral degradation that brought our race to ruin. If we continue to go down this path there will be no coming back from it. I believe, as I always have, that to truly win this war Decepticon and Autobot must unite was one. I truly wish I had never laid eyes on that slave coding but all I can do now is try to repair the damage I have done.”

“That coding might yet be what brings Cybertronians back from the brink of extinction.”

Optimus nodded. “Then perhaps it will serve a better purpose than the one we have used it for.”

He sighed and looked at the mechling.

All the actions he could ever take to make up for what he had done would never make it right. The mechlings very existence seemed a physical reminder of his failures.

He would never allow anything like that to happen again.

Perhaps one day his mechling might know of the events that had taken place on that island and judge him harshly for it. Until that day he would do his best to be a Sire worthy of the mechling who bore the name of a long dead mech with idealistic dreams and an incorruptible spark.

That mech, Orion Pax, who would be ashamed to see the mech he had become.

He would do better. For Orion Pax. Both of them. And for Megatron, the old friend he had wronged in so many ways.

 

***

Optimus had spent a long time after their talk watching over the mechling as Ratchet ran tests, mostly silent with an occasional expletive thrown in, clearly displeased with whatever he was finding. Judging by Ratchets intense focus on this monitors and the stormy expression he was sporting the mechlings test results were less than optimal.

“What did you find,” he asked of the medic.

“A virus, a nasty one at that. This mechling should have seen a medic ages ago, I could have caught it before it had progressed to this stage.”

Optimus felt his spark thrum in worry. “Is the mechling in danger?”

Ratchet threw a surprised look over his shoulder. “Danger? No, of course not. He would have been if left untreated but Megatron called us well before the mechling would have been in danger. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the reason he called us in the first place. He seemed pretty attached to the little fragger.”

“Ratchet, that is my mechling you are talking about,” Optimus reminded him gently.

Ratchet waved his servo dismissively. “It’s a term of endearment. I’ll have you know I used to be quite good with mechlings before the war, but make no mistake, they’re all little fraggers, every last one of them.”

Optimus rolled his optics but said no more on the subject. “Tell me about the virus.”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing as serious as I made it out to be. It scares the headlights off many new Caretakers though. The virus is just a common line of code controlling motor functions that got corrupted. It’s easy enough to fix but often the symptoms are rather dramatic. Judging by the dents on Orions helm I’d say he was exhibiting some self destructive behaviors before Megatron called us. Banging his head against walls and such.”

Ratchet walked over to the mechling and initiated a medical hardline connection, installing the new code directly into the mechling.

It took no more than a klik before Ratchet pulled away with a satisfied sound. “Good as new.”

Not a moment later the sound of engines hit their audials and both mechs shared a look.

The others were back.

They had decided on the flimsiest yet most plausible reason for the mechlings sudden appearance. The lie was that they had detected a Cybertonian life form and found the mechling in the desert with no logical idea how he had gotten there.

As fabrications went it was simple and not overly complicated, only requiring a great deal of confusion and shrugging on both Optimus and Ratchets parts.

Though Optimus was positive when Arcee spotted the mechling, raising an alarmed cry, the guilt on both their faces should have been obvious enough to immediately discredit any lie they told. Luckily everyone was too busy staring at the mechling to see their poorly hidden expressions.

The looks on everyone’s face ranged from shock to even more shock.

“Is that—“

“No way—“

“It is—“

“I thought I’d seen the last on Cybertron.”

“Bzzzbeeeep.”

“Is that a baby ‘bot? It’s so cute!”

A camera phone shutter sounded from the vicinity of Bulkheads shoulder.

With all the commotion and the ever rising volume of the ‘bots and humans it was no surprise when Orions optics flickered on.

All four ‘bots and three humans gasped simultaneously when the white optics came online, staring sleepily at the crowd of unfamiliar ‘bots. Optimus tensed, prepared for an outburst if the mechling became too overwhelmed or confused when he realized his Creator wasn’t there.

None of that happened.

Orion, after a startled pause, launched into jubilant series of clicks and chirps that had even the wary Prime cracking a smile.

White optics roved from face to face and his limbs kicked up a storm as the mechling, unable to contain his excitement, nearly flailed himself off the medical berth before Optimus steadied him. Orion grabbed Optimus’ servo the second it was in reach and used it to pull himself up in a move that seemed well practiced. He made a good effort but Optimus ended up helping the little mechling with a light servo on his back.

The collective sound his ‘bots made at the sight of the sitting mechling was enough for Ratchet to make a noise of disgust and proclaim, “Oh for the love of – get a hold of yourselves.”

Optimus smiled despite himself. Ratchets bark was worse than his bite; Optimus had personally seen him staring at the mechling with a near reverent look in his optics when he thought Optimus couldn’t see. Even now the medic was lacking his normal severity, and his words came off far more kindly he probably realized. 

None of the ‘bots responded to the jab.

Of course the first to speak was Smokescreen, jumping straight into: “Can I hold him?”

Optimus sighed, wishing Smokescreen would contain his eagerness on occasion.

With a brief nod the racer scooped the mechling up and was immediately surrounded by ‘bots and humans trying to get a better look and making various iterations of the same ‘aww’ sound.

None of them had so far asked where the mechling came from. For a team of supposedly trained warriors they were all acting like a bunch of Caretakers on their first rounds of the mechling centre.

When Miko piped up with a loud “Let me hold him next” Optimus realized this was only the beginning of what was going to be a very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that last part was totally last minute but I felt like it was a nice break from the uber depressingness I've been writing. The Optimus POV was also a somewhat last minute addition, originally I was going to have the story being 100% Megatrons POV but I decided Optimus' had some story that needed to be told. That will probably be the last of the Optimus POV (no guarantees tho).
> 
> And as always thank you all for your amazing reviews. *HUGS FOR ALL*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing reviewers are amazing. That's right, you know who I'm talking about. I'm talking about you. You are amazing.

Ratchet came back to The Pit several solar cycles later. One look at Megatrons self inflicted wounds and the medic began berating him in a way he never would have if Megatron had been free to retaliate. The disrespect would have once sent him into a furious rage. Megatron couldn’t work up the will to care.

“Honestly, Megatron,” Ratchet sighed, grabbing one of the massive servos and surveying the damage done.  Though the gouges had healed somewhat they were caked with dirt and dried energon. “I wouldn’t have thought you would be the sort of mech to resort to this sort of foolishness. Look at this mess.” He cleaned the wounds a little rougher than was strictly necessary. “Stubborn bucket head.”

“Did you come here with the sole purpose of insulting me, medic?”

“I came here to perform tests and give you a status report.”

“I don’t want to hear any status report. What good would it do?”

“You don’t even want to hear how your own Creation is doing,” Ratchet asked, sounding scandalized.

“No.”

The medic shook his head and cleaned the rest of Megatrons wounds in silence. The facial wounds were awkward for both of them, Megtron knelt and deactivated his optics while the medic worked a soft cloth over his face plates. The medic was professional about it, quick and efficient but thorough. Not for the first time Megatron regretted the medics affiliations. He would have been a valuable asset to the Decepticon cause. He vaguely recalled a conversation that seemed ages ago, he believed Ratchet had pushed for his honorable death rather than subjecting him to the slave coding. Megatron respected the medic for his mercy as well as his willingness to follow his Commander even in the face of orders he objected to.

A true soldier. Loyal yet not subservient. Merciful yet not one to shy away from what needed to be done.

Those thoughts distracted him until Ratchet indicated he was done.

The next task at hand was even more unpleasant.

When it was time for the tests he was brisk and efficient. Megatron complied with his commands and refused to show any reaction to the invasive prodding’s.

He heard Ratchet mutter words that were foreign to his ears. The word reproductive systems came up several times but the rest was beyond him. He was no medic. All he knew was that those ‘reproductive systems’ were the cause of nearly a stellar cycles worth of pain and if he didn’t already know Ratchet would refuse he would have demanded they be extracted immediately.

Ratchet spent no longer than necessary on the internal exam for which Megatron was thankful, even if he remained silent on the matter.

A further examination was done on his processor. For what purpose Megatron didn’t know but it left him with a slight sense of vertigo.

When Ratchet was done Megatron sat up, feeling a distant sort of violation from the exam.

“Just one more thing, Megatron.” Ratchet handed him a data pad. “When I leave Optimus wants you to watch this.”

He took the data pad and set it aside. Ratchet shook his helm and left.

Once Megatron was sure the medic was gone he picked up the data pad and activated it.

Optimus appeared on the screen wearing his customary serious expression.

“Megatron, I have a great many things I wish to say but as I’m sure you would break the data pad if I began staying any of them I will get right to the point. I am releasing you from the slave coding. The necessary codes were uploaded by Ratchet during the examination, the activation codes are on this data pad. For obvious reasons I had Ratchet leave the island before giving you the activation codes. What you do from here is your choice but I must warn you, if you continue on your former path I will keep Orion from you and do everything in my power to see to your deactivation. I truly believe the time on the island must have done you some good and that you will not continue on the path that has lead to countless deaths and the destruction of our world. You have my personal comm. line if you do reconsider rejoining the Decepticons.”

The message ended.

Megatron wasted no time in implementing the activation code.

The code change didn’t have any noticeable effect so Megatron tested it by opening up a private comm. link to Soundwave. To his delight there was no punishing retaliation from the slave code. Megatron enabled his internal comm, finding all his Decepticon comm. links in working order, just as he had left them before Optimus had had them disabled. He comm’d his Third.

The response was immediate. Lines of text (Soundwaves preferred mode of communication) flooded his HUD. Few people were privy to Soundwaves more talkative side, the mech that would send a wall of text to his Leader and yet refused to vocalize a single word. Typically Megatron found it irritating, today he couldn’t have been more pleased to see the familiar words of his Third.

Megatron-Back-Query-In-Good-Health-Soundwave-Beginning-To-Feel-Concern-Decepticons-Worried-Starscream-Worries-Despite-Treacherous-Words-To-The-Contrary-Comm-Link-Was-Inactive-Feared-Leader-in-Stasis-Coordinates-Requested-Soundwave-Will-Activate-Space-Bridge-Immediately.

Megatron reactivated his internal tracking systems and located his position on the planet, a small island in the Northern Pacific Ocean.

Soundwave sent his confirmation.

The space bridge was waiting for him when he left the transport container. Standing before it was his Second In Command.

“Well well well, look who finally decided to make an appearance,” drawled a familiar voice. One that on any other day he might have found annoying, now he only felt a dim sort of pleasure at hearing a voice that didn’t belong to himself or an Autobot.

“Starscream. Have you behaved yourself in my absence?”

The look that momentarily flashed across Starscreams faceplates said ‘no’. “Why, of course, Megatron! I ran a tight ship while you were away, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to find things are running more efficiently than ever under my leadership.  Why, the rest of the crew barely noticed your absence.”

He sent a half-hearted glare towards Starscream. “Oh, really?”

“Er, well, perhaps there are a few kinks to work out here and there but nothing to worry about.”

“Starscream, if I return to find my ship in ruins and my army half starved it will be on your hide,” he warned.

Starscream wrung his clawed fingers together and took a nervous step away from the space bridge, beckoning Megatron towards it. “I assure you, Master; you will be most pleased with my work.”

He eyed Starscream. His Second adopted a watery smile that he suspected was supposed to be encouraging.

Perhaps he might have once beaten his Second, a small part of him wanted to wipe that stupid expression off his face but he couldn’t bring himself to raise a servo at Starscream and the reason for that made his faceplates heat with embarrassment.

Primus.

Those wide optics, the subservient posture, the downturned wings … Starscream looked like a mechling to his optics. His Creator protocols were as active as ever and the behavior that once made him want to beat his Second now made him want to … no, he wasn’t going down that route. Starscream may look like a helpless weakling but his mind was shrewd and he would have no qualms exploiting this weakness to his full advantage if he became aware of it.

He pushed those thoughts away.

“It’s time to leave, Starscream.”

The seeker bowed. “Your space bridge awaits, my lord.”

Megatron didn’t spare a glance backwards. He was leaving The Pit behind; this was no time for sentimentality. This was the moment he had been waiting for since he had been marooned here by Prime, enslaved and violated; he was now a free mech on his way to reclaim his rightful place. As it always was in his life, he overcame adversity and rose to become more powerful than ever. This time his goal wasn’t power, his goal was something far grander.

The Pit had served its purpose, difficult though his time on the island had been he had gained insight and wisdom.

It was a strange regret he felt. Though he didn’t regret leaving The Pit he regretted leaving behind the quiet and contemplative moments, the times spent with nothing but the soft thrum of Orions spark against his own and the sunrise for company.

He would miss that, if nothing else.

Passing by Starscream who reflexively cringed at his Masters proximity, Megatron absent mindedly dropped a gentle pat on the seekers helm and entered the space bridge.

 

***

 

The biggest surprise would come a few orbital cycle after returning to the Nemisis.

 His return was predictably anti-climactic and had been greeted with a sort of obligated joy by most of the crew, all of which were used to his often and mysterious disappearances by this point, to the effect that his return was barely met with a sideways glance. This was neither the first nor the longest time Megatron had gone missing for. Soundwave had diligently kept his search going for his lost leader and the Decepticons had carried on in an orderly fashion. Megatron was pleased. His Decepticons were well trained and he could be assured that in the event of his demise the Decepticons would carry on.

He was greeted more enthusiastically by his inner circle than by the crew, as was to be expected, Dreadwing in particular expressing his deep relief that Megatron was well and alive.  Megatron suspected this was because Dreadwing was growing weary of working under Starscream and was grateful for the return of his true Master.

To Megatrons great surprise, despite some opinion to the contrary, Starscream had done a passable job commanding the ship in his absence; the halls were cleaner than he remembered, a strange difference in command style that Megatron would have never anticipated.

Aside from cosmetic differences Starscream had, under the careful supervision of Soundwave, made no radical changes.

Megatron had half expected to return to find a throne room and a gaudy crown built to Starscreams specs. He found neither.

Instead he found cleanliness and order and a crew that seemed harassed and overworked. Starscream, it seemed, was as high maintenance a leader as he was a SIC. As far as leadership flaws went it wasn’t as terrible as Megatron might have imagined.

He didn’t tell Starscream he was impressed but over the next few orbital cycles after his return he began allowing the seeker to take an active leadership role and allowed his SIC to shoulder responsibilities that were before off limits to him.

After a slightly rocky beginning during which Starscream seemed to fear for his life and had taken to staying well out of Megatrons reach, the seeker seemed to understand his life was not in jeopardy and began to flourish under what he considered to be ‘the respect he always deserved’.

Their new found mutual respect was what resulted in Starscream bringing the latest spoils of his raid to Megatron rather than hoarding it away for his own use. No doubt the seeker was expecting lavish praise and a parade thrown in his honour for the effort.

“Master,” crowed Starscream, announcing his entrance. Megatron didn’t turn around, preoccupied with the latest energon mining reports, finding a brief grunt to be acknowledgment enough for his SIC. The clicking of the seekers distinctive pedes grew louder as he sauntered closer. “You will not _believe_ what the Autobots were hiding!”

“A mechling,” said dryly.

“A mechl—, “ Starscream began to declare proudly before Megatrons words registered. “How in the Pit did you know that?” He demanded.

His optics were focused intently on the data pad and he was momentarily struck dumb by a pain he thought he had reconciled himself to. “It is none of your concern. I am well aware of this and would have made you aware when it was time for you to know.”

“Don’t tell me you want me to give it back, after all the trouble I went through to bring it to you. I even polished the little fragger up for you,” he grumbled.

The data pad dropped. He slowly turned.

“He is here?”

“It’s in my quarters. Where else could I polish a mechling? It’s not like Knock Out would let me use the med bay for mechling detailing.”

“Bring him to me.”

Starscream gave him a dirty look, clearly feeling he wasn’t getting the praise he had expected. Megatron couldn’t care less. His Second left in a huff.

Orion was here, on the Nemesis?

It was too much to be believed.

After so long was he to finally be reunited with his Creation?

He had held back all hope of a reunion, resigning himself to Optimus Prime raising their offspring. It hadn’t been an easy choice to make but it was one he knew was for the best. The Nemesis was no place for a mechling and he was well aware that being known as the heir of Lord Megatron would come with dangers and challenges he could not foresee.

Of the two of them Optimus was a mech perfectly suited to raising young, steady tempered and with a fair mix of firmness and patience that would serve a mechling far better than Megatrons own quick temper and grand ambitions.

He had known this and accepted it.

He had not even attempted to see or contact his mechling. It was better to sever all ties completely than linger over what-if’s. More importantly, it would not have been fair to Orion.

Now all of that was ruined by Starscream and by his own command.

Megatron couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but joy and perhaps some trepidation.

It seemed to take an eternity for Starscream to come back.

The click of high heeled pedes heralded his arrival.

Megatrons tanks froze.

Starscream returned with flourish, gesturing grandly towards Megatron for the benefit of the mechling cradled in his servos.

“And that, little Autobot, is my Master. Lord Megatron. I would say bow but I doubt you can understand me.”

It was him. Orion. His mechling. His heir. His Creation.

Before he realized what he was doing Megatron had crossed the space between them and scooped Orion up in his servos, pressing the tiny body close to his spark, feeling the answering flutter of Orions own spark.

He looked down at familiar white optics. Optics that were wide with an emotion that wasn’t happiness.

His mechling looked afraid. Had he forgotten him so soon? It had been a few orbital cycles, almost as long as Orion had been alive. Of course. He had been foolish to believe such a young mechling could retain memories like a grown mech.

It was for the best.

Feeling more than a little foolish and a great deal more mortified at his display in front of Starscream, he handed the mechling back.

“Take him back to the Autobots.”

For once Starscream didn’t question him, taking the mechling back and walking away even though the expression on his face plates was that of a mech itching for knowledge,. Megatron turned his back on them, not wanting to see his mechling disappear for a second time.

Starscream was close to the door when the mechling let out a piercing cry. The sound froze the energon in Megatrons lines. He steeled himself against it.

The seeker had no such willpower, letting out a startled squawk at the volume of the mechlings cries.

As soon as the cries began turning frantic Starscream marched back to Megatron, walking around until he was face to face with him and deposited the mechling in his Leaders servos.

The shrieks stopped.

Megatron looked down at the tiny mechling and the mechling looked back at him. He knew now Orion had not forgotten. There was love in this optics, a love so innocent and trusting that he felt stripped bare, exposed for the monster he was, undeserving of this mechling.

Why, he wanted to ask. Why do you love me? Why do I deserve you?

Orion smiled and slapped his chestplates, bouncing excitedly and chirping non-stop.

He didn’t care for Megatrons spark-searching and internal crisis. He had his Creator back. That was all that mattered.

‘You are correct, little Orion,’ he thought. ‘As always, your simplicity cuts through my unimportant worries and gives me perspective.’

“So, er, I take it you know each other,” asked Starscream, very nearly falling over himself with curiosity burning in his optics.

“Leave us Starscream.”

“But—“

“Now!”

Starscream looked put out but immediately left.

Megatron and Orion were alone for the first time in so long and Megatron didn’t know what to do.

So he did the only thing he could do in a situation where he was infinitely out of his depth.

He comm’d Soundwave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I've been banging these chapters out, I'm sort of feeling like I've been rushing them. Quick notice. I had had the last of this fic written and done with but then I decided that the ending wasn't quite up to the quality I would like so while I have an idea of how I want the ending to go none of it has been written yet so next chapter might take longer to get posted.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOODNESS GUYS IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO UPDATE. Hopefully I'm going to be quicker updating now that I've got a rough outline of how I want the rest of the fic to flow.
> 
> As always the response has been amazing and all your reviews have really motivated me to buckle down and get this chapter out. Having said that I don't know that I'm 100% happy with the chapter, it was a tough one to write for various reasons but I hope you all enjoy it and if it seems OOC or weird let me know, constructive criticism is a writers best friend.
> 
> Once again thanks for your reviews and I hope you enjoy. :D

For a mech with no face Soundwave had remarkably expressive body language.

Megatron had long ago learned to read Soundwaves moods and thoughts through the subtle tilt of his helm and the motions of his body.

The moment Soundwave arrived in his office quarters the slender black mech did a literal double take, his face screen resetting itself a number of times before he apparently convinced himself he was not experiencing a malfunction.

To Soundwaves credit he made a swift recovery and strode forward, standing before Megatron expectantly.

“As you can see, Soundwave, I am now in possession of a mechling.” Soundwaves head tilted, looking like one of the squirrels from The Pit, much to Megatrons amusement. “I am sure you have many questions. Indeed, I have questions of my own that have yet to be answered but this is neither the time nor the place. I suspect that in a very short while we will be contacted by the Autobots, no doubt wondering why I am in possession of this mechling.”

Soundwave didn’t respond, his focus entirely on Orion who was likewise intently focused on the new mech.

A single tentacle rose from Soundwaves back, making its way into Orions reach. Megatron watched the interaction with calm optics. There were perhaps only two mechs he would trust with Orions welfare, Soundwave was one of them, the other being Prime who would never hurt his own spawn. He allowed the contact between the two.

A second tentacle joined the first and Orion was gently lifted out of Megatrons servos.

The Decepticon commander watched them closely, partially out of curiosity but more out of fascination.

Orion squirmed a bit in the hold of the tentacles but took his cue from the mechs around him and was otherwise calm. Soundwave slowly brought the mechling into his waiting servos, holding the tiny bot with an ease that surprised Megatron. Soundwave was not what one would consider to be a nurturing mech and yet he moved with a great deal more confidence around the mechling than even Megatron himself; not that Megatron would consider himself to be an authority on mechling care. It was strange to see those long digits wrapped around a mechling with care instead of clicking furiously on a keyboard and Megatron began to think he may have to reevaluate his views on Soundwave. The unlikely mech was exhibiting skills that Megatron had never thought to attribute to his Third and it only impressed him further that Soundwave seemed to have no area which was beyond his ability to master.

Orion, meanwhile, seemed greatly confused by Soundwaves face or lack thereof, reaching up to touch the black screen

Soundwave tilted his helm down and allowed the mechling to touch the flat surface, allowing soft colours to filter across it much to Orions amusement.

Megatron winced slightly as Orions delight became too enthusiastic and he delivered a sharp blow to the screen. Soundwave didn’t seem to mind, flashing bright fractal patterns across his screen, Orion burst out in a delighted shriek at the increasingly vivid and complex patterns.

“You have a way with the mechling. You continue to surprise me, Soundwave.”

Soundwave-Believed-Mechlings-Exterminated-How-Have-You-Come-Into-Possession-Of-One?

“Through circumstances that were previously unknown to us. Reproduction.”

Soundwave was eerily still.

“I have obtained knowledge that could be essential to the continuation of our species.”

Tentacles once again emerged from Soundwaves back, extending until they hovered at Megatrons helm. Soundwave silently asking him permission to extract the information directly from his leaders processor.

Megatron nodded once, shuttering his optics as Soundwave formed a hardline connection. Though he had seen this done on other mechs Soundwave had never before initiated a connection with Megatron, both out of respect and lack of necessity. The experience wasn’t as unpleasant as he might have imagined, merely disorienting as Soundwave worked with the deft experience of a mech greatly used to finding and extracting information. The touch in his processor was delicate, almost ignorable and it was over quickly enough that he didn’t feel any lasting discomfort.

He knew Soundwave was capable of a far more deadly extraction though he didn’t advertise his abilities openly. There was a fine line between inspiring fearful respect and inspiring blind fear. Soundwave was by far the most dangerous mech in his command, paradoxically the mech he trusted the most. The one mech he would ever willingly let into his processor.

Soundwave processed the information he had received and fed back a recording containing key lines of dialogue involving slave coding, Autobots and Orion gathered from Megatrons memories.

“Yes. Do you see, Soundwave. The Autobots have unwittingly handed us the key to our revival.”

The blank faceplate of his Communications Officer tilted towards Orion then up to Megatron.

Autobot-Actions-Unforgivable.

“Perhaps. The Autobots have stooped far lower than I could ever have imagined, driven by desperation or a misguided sense of mercy I know not. Yet I find myself … conflicted in how to approach the matter. Such actions justify retaliation but I am reluctant to take a course of action that will lead to more death, be it Decepticon or Autobot.”

Soundwave was silent.

Megatron moved restlessly, pacing slowly up and down the room. He couldn’t fathom what was going on in Soundwaves processor but he knew his words must come as a surprise to the other mech. Or not. Soundwave often seemed to know his thoughts better than Megatron himself did.

“Are you surprised, Soundwave? That I would choose not to seek vengeance? I am justified as never before to exterminate those wretched Autobots. I have suffered humiliations I had long thought myself above. In some ways I was brought back to the mech I was before I choose to call myself Megatron. A humbling experience but one that has given me a perspective I believe will serve me well. You never knew the mech I was but he was a good mech, better than I am now,” he murmured, half to Soundwave and half to himself. “I believe if he could see what has become of myself and Cybertron he would be ashamed. We’ve all become that which we once vowed to fight against. Haven’t we, Soundwave?”

Soundwave played an audio filed back at him. A file of himself so long ago on Cybertron.

_‘Join me, Soundwave, with you at my side I will lead Cybertron into a new Golden Age.’_

Megatron grimaced. Soundwaves message was clear. He had failed in his promise.

“You have seen me stray and yet you have followed at my side. Do you still believe in our goals, Soundwave? Do you still have faith in your Master?”

“Faith: never wavered. Soundwave: loyal to Megatron.”

Megatron stared steadily at his Third, feeling gratitude so deep he would never be able to put it into words.

“Then I will do my utmost to reward your loyalty. Cybertron may never have another Golden Age but I will see to it that our race will continue, on Cybertron or this planet or another, I do not know but I will see the rebirth of the Cybertronian race. Decepticon as well as Autobot.”

Soundwave held Orion close and relayed an audio file, long buried and even longer forgotten, that sent a chill through Megatrons frame as though a ghost of the past had risen before him.

_‘’Til all are one.’_

 

***

The arrival of a mechling on board the Nemesis wasn’t kept silent for long. After his talk with Soundwave he ordered his Third to gather his lieutenants for a meeting. The plan was to inform his lieutenants of the existence of the mechling, its parentage and their new plans, in that order, and eventually make a ship-wide announcement once he was certain there would be no mutiny from those closest to him.

The realities of living on a ship was that there were no secrets and if there was a secret to be found it was quickly rooted out and spread like a plague among the crew.

Being the Leader of the Decepticon Army didn’t offer any protection from the grapevine and mere kilks after exiting his meeting with Soundwave Megatron found himself being followed through the corridors of his ship.

To the credit of his crew they were doing a passable job of not being obvious but Megatron was no fool and had a natural paranoia ingrained in him after years on the front lines of battle. He recognized spying when he saw it. As little as he cared for the petty gossip of his crew Megatron found himself becoming increasingly ill tempered as mech after mech passed him or just happened to take a wrong turn down the corridor he was walking. By the time he was half way to his destination the crew wasn’t even bothering to hide their curiosity and he found corridor after corridor being occupied by any number of Vehicons and Insecticons and even drones, all straining their neck cables for a glimpse of the sleeping mechling cradled in his servos.

He might have ordered them away or lost his temper and demanded to know how his ship was running with no crew to keep her afloat but he didn’t.

The gossip could only serve his purposes. Let his crew speak; let them share tales of the mysterious mechling. Let them hope.

If, no, when, a means of wide spread reproduction was found he would be hailed as a hero. The savior of the Cybertronian race. Allowing them to see Orion would only serve to spark embers of an idea that he planned to fan into a great fire. The idea that hope was not lost, that their years of fighting and searching had not been in vain and an end was in sight.

Every Cybertonian lived with the fear of being the last, outliving every Decepticon and Autobot and slowly rusting away, alone on an alien planet. That fear kept them fighting even when there was nothing left to fight for because what else was a doomed race to do with their time but carry on as they always had. The mere sight of a mechling would do much to ease the way to peace, providing a way out of the fight and something new to focus their energies on.

In hindsight perhaps allowing the crew to see Orion would work in his advantage. There was nothing like pressure from the masses to make a mech see reason and if any of his lieutenants raised objections to his plans, well, nobody wanted to get on the bad side of the crew. Not after the debacle with Starscream and the tainted energon.

He smirked and held Orion ever so slightly higher. Let them look, let them set the wheels turning for his plans to come to fruition.

 

***

 

“Wait wait wait, let me get this straight. You? And Optimus Prime. _The_ Optimus Prime. And a mechling. You guys – _oh_ , oh Primus! No! I do not even need that thought in my processor.”

Knockout shook his helm as though trying to shake the thoughts out.

Megatron gave him a stern look that quickly had Knockout straightening up and apologizing.

His other three lieutenants gave him looks that varied from inscrutable (Soundwave), to shocked (Breakdown), to horrifyingly disgusted (Starscream). Though Megatron hadn’t revealed any details of his time on The Pit or how Orion came into being the knowledge that Optimus Prime spawned a mechling with their leader seemed to be too much for some of his lieutenants to handle.

Naturally it was Starscream who took the information and ran with it.

“Prime was the, er, carrier. Right” he asked in an obnoxiously smug way that indicated he suspected something else.

“The coding protocols are Creator and Sire. Prime is Orions designated Sire.”

Orion gurgled at the sound of his name and his optics came back online. It was enough to distract everyone momentarily from the grimace that passed over Megatron faceplates.

“If I may ask, Megatron,” said Breakdown. “How did this … union come to be?”

“That is a matter best left between myself and Prime. I will not have you three gossiping over the details of my private life, however fascinating you may find it. And let me be very clear. If I find this information has left this room I will greatly enjoy making you watch your own sparks fade before your optics. Do I make myself clear?”

Knockout, Breakdown and Starscream gave less than enthusiastic nods. Soundwave was still and silent in the background.

No one seemed very inclined to talk. Megatron could tell his lieutenants were very near to bursting with curiosity but knew well enough that the wrong question would get them a sound beating and so they simply stared until Megatron was forced to break the silence.

“As you might have already guessed the birth of a mechling is significant to the continuation of our species. The Autobots are the only ones with the knowledge to activate the coding that will allow physical birth in our species. This presents a problem as we neither know where the Autobots are hiding, nor do we possess the needed base codes to implement it within our ranks.”

“Ugh,” Knockout said, shuddering slightly. “Physical birth. That’s so organic. Not to mention what it would do to my frame.”

“Naturally as the resident medic you would be on the front lines of this new discovery,” Megatron directed at Knockout, enjoying the blatant disgust on his CMOs face. “As I was saying, we are unable to obtain the needed codes however I do believe the Autobots would be open to a truce of sorts. Prime has expressed an interest in talks of peace and I can see no better time than now to begin negotiations for a cease fire.”

He waited for that information to skin in.

Starscream was the first to speak up, his tone mocking. “As always, Lord Megatron, a brilliant plan. What could go wrong? Are we going to invite Optimus Prime over for a nice cube of energon before or after we sign the peace treaty? Maybe we could wax each other’s chassis and laugh over old war stories while we’re at it. Or I should follow your example and frag that ‘Arcee’ of theirs, aside from Prime she’s probably the least disgusting of the Autobots. Trust you to take the best for yourself and leave the rest of us with scraps.”

The venom in his Second voice was surprising but not unexpected.  The others looked at him with the expression of mechs watching a slow speed crash and burn. Pity shone through their optics and even Megatron wasn’t able to summon his usual ire at his Seconds disrespect.

“Mind your tone with me, Starscream. Your reservations are noted but I will not let the opportunity to end this war pass us by. We are an aging and dying race and old vendettas will only speed us to our demise.”

“I know that.”

“Then you will cooperate. I will not have dissention in the ranks when it comes to this. We may never have another opportunity to end this war. We may grieve for our fallen brothers and sisters but they are gone and we remain. Wallowing in memories of the dead will not bring them back. We must move forward.”

Starscreams wings had dropped low and his optics offlined. He looked small and weary. Megatron knew, even after countless vorn he still mourned the loss of Thundercracker and Skywarp. Their deaths at the servos of the Autobots weapon specialist Ironhide had twisted the seeker, damaged him in ways Megatron likely could never fathom. Though nobody spoke of them now or acknowledged their existence he knew Starscream thought of them often. His Creator protocols urged him to comfort the seeker. Instead he stood silent until Starscream activated his optics.

“Prime and his lackeys I would be willing to negotiate with. The Autobot forces at large, I would see their sparks ripped out of their chestplates before I would negotiate with them,” Starscream murmured.

There was a moment of silence until Starscream collected himself. The transformation was remarkable, the seeker changing from a haunted, serious mech into his normal self, cocky and irreverent. It was mildly unnerving but they all had to respect that every mech had their demons, even Starscream, and they all did what they had to too get through the cycles. Even if that meant taking on the role of two mechs long since dead.

Megatron gave a nod, acknowledging Starscreams choice. “That is acceptable for now. We will begin communication with the Autobots today. I wish our first dialogue to be between Prime and myself. If we reach an accord I will involve the rest of you. Until then you will go about your regular tasks. And let me once again stress the importance of secrecy. If you value your sparks you will remain silent.”

They nodded with a chorus of ‘yes, my Lord’.

“Good. Now which one of you will volunteer for the task of watching Orion while I speak with Prime?”

Megatron contained a smirk at the matching expressions of horror.

Soundwave sent him a data stream containing his perceived humour of the situation and an offer of a cube of his best high grade of Starscream volunteered first.

Before he even had a chance to respond Knockout stepped forward. “Me! I’ll do it!” Everyone stared at the medic. “What?”

“Somebody’s got their head up Megatrons tailpipe,” Starscream said under his breath.

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Knockout shot back.

“What exactly are you implying, groundpounder?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying. If you had your head any further up—“

“Enough,” Megatron snarled, already tired of hearing their voices. “Breakdown. Take Orion.”

“Me, my lord?”

“Do you know of another mech called Breakdown?”

“Er, no, my lord.”

Breakdown hurried forward and Megatron carefully deposited Orion in his waiting servos.

“I trust I don’t need to mention the many ways I will make you suffer if my Creation is harmed in any way?”

Breakdown looked as though he were about to purge and quickly shook his helm. “No, my Lord. I understand.”

“Good.”

To Soundwave he sent a datafile requesting the high grade be brought to his quarters.

With one last look at his mechling who was being oogled by his three lieutenants Megatron left, secure in the knowledge that Orion was as safe as any mech could be, on the Nemesis and guarded by four of the strongest mechs he had at his command.

He almost had himself convinced that was the truth. In reality Orion was being guarded by two of the biggest backstabbers with diva complexes he had ever known, a blithering idiot and a near mute communications officer.

It was a miracle they ever got anything done.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a looooong long time since I updated. I wish I had some sort of a good reason but I don't. I can only say that I was momentarily swept away into the magnificence that is John Blake/Bane and the Dark Knight fandom, but never fear for I am back and with a new chapter. Enjoy!

 

Once in the privacy of his quarters Megatron accessed the comm. link of Optimus Prime. He hesitated momentarily as the weight of what he was about to do made his processor ache slightly. Here he was, the most unlikely of mechs, about to make a bid for peace in a war that had been raging longer than the inhabitants of this planet had been alive.

It was enough to make any mech think twice about their actions. There were very good reasons on both sides for them to have fought as long and bitterly as they all had and he was no fool to think that a bid for peace would solve anything. It was a start but even if they had eons of time the scars from their war ran deep and he knew that even the new generation of mechs and femmes who would spring from a union of Autobot and Decepticon would bear the burden of past atrocities committed on both sides.

Still, Megatron found he could not feel guilt for his actions. He felt a sense of regret for the lives lost and potential wasted in the ruins of their planet but he would rather have Orion know the freedom of an unknown future on an alien planet than have been born into a life of servitude and drudgery under the old rule.

He didn’t regret for an astrosecond the burnt out husk he had left of their old way of life but he also knew that attitude would not sit well with Prime and it would interfere with his plans for negotiations.

With a frustrated sweep of his servo over his faceplate Megatron knew he was out of his element. Negotiations and diplomacy had never been his strength. He might have left the task to a mech better suited for the job but there was none under his command. All his lieutenants were either insufferably self absorbed or were simply not suited to tasks like talking or subtlety.

He was beginning to see why there had never been negotiations up to this point.

The Decepticon army was sorely lacking in competent, diplomatic mechs.

With a heave of his intake vents Megatron privately acknowledged his own shortcomings. Prime would undoubtedly have the upper hand in this area but he was determined that Prime would not best him. Prime may be more suited to diplomacy but he held all the cards.

He initiated the internal comm. link.

Almost immediately Primes voice was in his head and his optics supplied him with a holographic projection of the Autobot leader.

“Megatron,” came the voice of Prime from inside his processor, sounding wary yet unsurprised.

“Yes, Prime.”

Prime was quiet for a few kilks. “I presume you have Orion?”

“I do. I must admit I am surprised you have not contacted me. I expected you to knock down the walls of my ship to get to Orion and yet you surprise me by not even informing me of his capture. That is uncharacteristically negligent of you, Prime.”

Primes optics flickered, surprise evident in the blue crystalline orbs. “I had believed Starscream was sent on your command.”

And wasn’t that a fine example of Starscream, useful when you don’t need or want him to be and utterly untrustworthy and incompetent when you need him most. Megatron kept his face calm but he suspected his exasperation with Starscream shone through regardless. It was bordering on humiliating having Prime witness how little control he had over the wayward seeker. “I am not a mech to go back on a decision. When I gave Orion to you I did so under the assumption that he would be cared for properly and, more importantly, that he would be safe in your care. I see I was mistaken on at least one count. Orion, it would seem, is as safe in my care as he would be in yours. Safer, in fact, as you barely managed to keep him an orbital cycle before Starscream, of all mechs, stole him from you.”

Prime took the jab with his usual good grace and bowed his head in a momentary gesture of failure. He could very nearly hear Primes mortification when he spoke. “That was … a grave lack of attention on my part.”

“I’m sure it is a story worth telling,” Megatron prompted.

Prime gave a barely audible sigh. “The children convinced Bumblebee that Orion needed to experience something the humans call a ‘playground’.”

“And so your human children and Bumblebee decided to make off with my Creation and ran into Starscream,” he surmised. “I question your competency and the competency of the mechs under your command. I take it they have no idea of Orions true origins.”

“They do not.”

“I imagine you will have a great deal of explaining to do if the truth ever comes out.”

“I imagine so,” Prime said softly.

The two stared at each other, Prime becoming increasingly uncomfortable, his optics flickering here and there as though not wanting to maintain optic-contact with the Decepticon leader but being too proud to look away first. After a long stretch Megatron spoke.

“I wish for us to meet.”

 “For what purpose,” Prime asked, suspicion colouring his voice.

“Negotiations. I find myself in a position where the negotiation of a ceasefire would seem to be a benefit to both myself and my army,” he said, greatly enjoying the naked surprise on Primes faceplates. “This would, of course, not come without a price on your part.”

The surprise was replaced by his previous wariness and suspicion but Megatron could read Prime well enough to know that under the obligatory caution there was a measure of hope. He was conflicted by his response to Primes hopeful expression. Rather than disgust he found himself feeling eager. That emotion outside of battle was foreign and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Luckily Prime was not adept at reading his adversary and remained ignorant to everything but the emotions and expressions he wanted Prime to see.

“The cost of a cease fire with the Decepticons is likely higher than the Autobots are willing to pay,” Prime warned. “We will agree to nothing that will cost lives, both Cybertonian and human.”

A laugh rumbled deep in his chassis. Trust Prime to jump to the worst conclusion. “It will surprise you to learn that the Decepticons aren’t the mindless savages you seem to think we are. I can see no logic or purpose to demanding death in return for a ceasefire. On the contrary, I believe that would defeat the purpose.”

Prime frown, knowing he was being made fun of but not knowing how to react to Megatrons sudden and uncharacteristic good humour. “I suppose you are correct. If I were to consider your offer what would the terms of our meeting be?”

“You and I, without backup or allies. I will allow you to choose the time and place provided it is on neutral ground.”

Primes optics narrowed. “And how do I know this isn’t a trap?”

Megatrons good mood turned abruptly sour. “I believe of the two of us it is I with the most cause for mistrust. I have given you the advantage of choosing the time and place. If anyone should be wary of an trap it is me.”

Prime shook his helm wearily. “What do you think I would do? Even if I were inclined to betray you in that fashion, something I have no intention of doing, you have Orion in your care. I would do nothing that would cause Orion harm or undue suffering, and that includes harming you.”

The passion in his voice surprised Megatron and it was a shock to realize how much he wanted Prime to mean the words he spoke. He had no doubt Prime cared for his own spawn, Prime cared for every living creature, but he hadn’t expected Primes care for Orion to extend to himself. That Prime would show reluctance to harm him merely to keep Orion happy was a great tactical advantage but, moreso, it was a sign that his idea to begin negotiations was the right move.

Orion had been the one component that was missing. The catalyst that bridged the gulf between Autobot and Decepticon.

“I am pleased to hear that, Prime. Negotiations between our two factions will require a certain amount of … trust. I trust that you will not use this opportunity to betray me and I give you my word that I will refrain from betraying you.”

Prime gave him the barest hint of a smile. “Your wording leaves something to be desired.”

Megatron gave a returning smirk. “It is the best you’re going to get. I will give you some time to think over my proposal. I await your reply.”

Prime nodded and Megatron disconnected.

When he was no longer under Primes watchful optics he allowed himself a sigh of relief.

That had gone better than expected.

 

***

 

Their meeting took place on neutral territory in the deep forests of the Canadian wilderness where no human or mech could stumble upon them unwittingly. The place chosen was a wide open expanse of plains that, to his optics, was strangely beautiful.  It was not The Pit where his very presence seemed to dwarf the world around him, rather he felt dwarfed by the sheer scope and expanse of the tundra. Endless plains and hills and sweeping expanses of rough grass that was a lovely muted gold interspersed with pale green. The colours were soothing to his optics, accustomed as they were to the blackened void of space, the grey of endless metal hallways and the calm metallic's of Cybertron.

He stood, content, in the bowl of a great valley for some time, allowing the Earths sun to warm his hide.

The sound of a ground bridge opening and closing behind him did nothing to disturb his calm. He dimmed his optics, staring ever forward into the horizon and let Prime come to him.

The two mechs stood side by side for a great deal of time. Prime was tense, waiting for an attack that never came, then cautious, then klik by kilk becoming as serene as the mech standing beside him.

" I find myself wondering why the humans leave this place relatively untouched. For a backwater planet this is an impressive view."

"It is too cold for the humans," Prime responded quietly, as if afraid to raise his voice. "They prefer warmer climates."

"Hmm. It is for the best, humans could do nothing but destroy this place."

"If I said I agreed with you would you be surprised?"

"Not at all. You know this species as well as I do. They are a young race, an arrogant race. They thirst for conquest and expansion and discovery to the point of complete destruction."

"Was our race ever so young," Prime asked.

"Not that any living Cybertronian remembers, myself included. Our destruction was not brought on by youth but by age. Sometimes I am of the opinion that our race lives too long," he murmured, his candid speech coming as a surprise to both of them. "I have been here long enough to see the birth and death of stars and I may yet live to see a hundred more stars come into being and then fade away."

He could feel Primes shocked optics on him. "How old are you?"

Megatron smiled without humour. "Old enough to make you seem like a child in comparison."

They lapsed into silence again until Prime spoke.

"Megatron. I have thought about what I would say to you, what I could do to not only make amends but to ensure a lasting peace between our two factions. I briefly thought about asking permission to court you, it seemed the most ... traditional way, alliances were often bartered through bonds between foes. However, due to what you would probably consider my martyr complex, I felt that wasn't fair to you as I would stand more to gain through that union."

Prime was looking pensively into the horizon. Megatron eyed him curiously, taking in Primes uncomfortable position, he looked like a mech going to his death.

"If I were to give you myself in exchange for a treaty, a guarantee of peace-"

Primes voice trailed off in a short buzz of static.

Megatron gave Prime a hard look, trying to find any deception in his offer. He could find none. Prime, the same self sacrificing fool he always was. Time had made him desperate. They both held two distinct advantages, Megatron had Orion and Prime had the key to Cybertrionian reproduction. If he was to be honest, Prime held the greater bargaining advantage and yet his martyr complex just wouldn't let him forge an honest deal. He simply had to make a grand self sacrificing gesture.

Megatron scoweled. "And what would you have me do when I had you in my possession? Would you have me take my revenge out of your hide?"

"Perhaps."

"Would that alleviate your guilt?"

Primes optics dimmed. "I doubt anything you or I could ever do would absolve my guilt for what I have done. This is not a decision I have come to out of some misplaced sense of obligation to you or out of guilt, I believe this is the best way."

"Then you are a fool. I don't want to own you, Prime. I want an end to this war and to not be a member of a race with one pede in the scrap heap. Do you understand Prime? Can you comprehend that a being that has lived as long as I have and who may still live for millennia more, how a being such as I would fear outliving their entire race? Whatever factions we may belong to are as meaningless as fighting for the dead husk of a planet we once called home. Everything is meaningless in the face of our survival."

"Then there will be peace," Prime declared. "If we both desire it."

"So you say. What of the lies you tell your Autobots? When the truth of how Cybertronian reproduction is possible comes to light your Autobots will want to know how you came to be in such a position with the leader of the Decepticons. What then," he asked.

"Then I will answer for my crimes."

"No, Prime. No you won't. Not in any conventional way. I will not have my mechs knowing the details of my imprisonment, it would be as much a disgrace to me as to you."

Prime looked scandalized. "Your mechs would blame you for being the victim of such an attack? Even a mechling would know you were not at fault."

Megatron couldn't help but smirk at Primes naive outrage. "I am guilty of weakness, that is blame enough for my Decepticons. Could they ever look at me in the same light knowing I was so subjugated by an Autobot? No, it could never be. Regardless of what measure of blame belongs to you I would carry even more blame for being weaker. Do you understand, Prime? You were the victor, in the optics of my Decepticons you would be more worthy of praise because you were stronger than I."

"Barbarism," Prime murmured. Though his voice was low his disapproval was written loudly in every line of his frame.

"It is our way."

"And would you teach that way to our Creation? Would you teach him that weakness is more worthy of shame than what I have done to you?"

A deep frown settled on his facial plates as he contemplated how best to answer. His thought on the matter were complicated. When he spoke it wasn't a grandiose explanation but a proposal of sorts. "Perhaps the Decepticons have grown too hard in our ways. The Autobots have likewise grown weak and sentimental. Together we may be able to check and balance each other. What use is strength without something weak to protect? What use is fragility when there is no one to teach compassion to?" He gave a short huff of air that might have been a snort. "What use is a bitter, old Warlord without a youthful, optimistic Prime to be his foil?"

To his surprise Prime smiled widely. "What use is a hopelessly naive Prime without a wise High Protector to guide him?"

"You are long past the need for guidance, naive though you may be."

"And yet I find I still have much to learn."

Megatron looked into Primes optics and saw true hope for the first time. He looked away, staring over the vast, cold tundra, unable to think under the expectations of such a hopeful gaze. "What would you propose then?"

"It is a strange thing but I can only find myself coming back to the same conclusion I came to before. A union between the leaders of the two factions. As distasteful as it is it, a union would be enough to convince the 'bots on both our sides that the conception of Orion came through no foul play."

Megatron nodded, a story already building itself inside his processor. "Our past  bonding unwittingly created Orion. I went into hiding on that Pit forsaken island in order to birth Orion at which point I gave him to your keeping under the assumption that the Nemesis would be too unsuitable for a mechling and I, too unsuitable a caretaker for him. Enough truth to make the lie palatable, though we will have to smooth out and agree on the details. I cannot guarantee either side will not have their suspicions but they will have no choice but to accept it as long as we both keep to our parts. Soundwave won't like it but he will accept it and will not betray us." Megatron turned back to face Prime and found him looking ever so slightly ill. "Come now, Prime, you have bonded with me once before."

"That was ... different."

"Now is not the time to back down. If you do then all this will have been for nothing. This is the only chance we will ever have to end this fight. Is bonding with me such a distasteful act?"

"What? No," Prime said, "It's only that - I mean, do you want to do it now? Here? Without even a ceremony or a witness?"

It truly didn't matter to Megatron. This was a union of practicality, not emotion and he said as much. "If we go back to our sides unbonded you and I both know the chances of us following through are greatly diminished. Better to get it over with now when we are both here and resolute."

Primes vents inhales deeply. "I understand. You are right, of course, I just didn't expect it to be so sudden. When you mentioned peace talked ... I expected ... I do not know what I expected. Not this."

"Come here Prime," he held out a clawed servo. Prime surprised him by placing his own blunt servo in Megatrons. He closed his fingers around Primes ever so slightly smaller servo and pulled him close. His chesplate clicked open and a dim blue glow bathed Primes features. "You needn't be afraid. It will be over soon and neither of us will be changed."

"I know."

"Then show me your spark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry soooooo much for the cliffhanger. It wasn't my intention but if I didn't end it there this chapter would have just gone on and on and on. Next chapter will hopefully be up sooner than this chapter was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains ROBOT SEX!

Primes chest plate opened, the armored components moving aside to reveal the blue orb that was Primes very soul. It was ... beautiful. Megatron knew his own spark intimately, how it pulsed and roiled and glowed, a reflection of himself in some ways. A steady and slow beating orb that glowed fiercely bright. It was a spark he would not deem extraordinary by any means, certainly nothing he would call beautiful.

Primes spark, though. It was not the spark of Optimus Prime he was seeing but the spark of Orion Pax.  A fluttering thing, rapidly pulsing with a rich blue light, reaching out playfully to his own spark as if beckoning it closer.

Primus, to behold the spark of his enemy was a powerful thing and he was struck momentarily by a sudden urge to take the spark in his hand and crush it, so fragile it was that a single squeeze of his servo could snuff out Primes life in an instant. Not an astrosecond later he was overcome with the urge to simply hold that spark close and marvel at its fragility. So unlike his own. How it fluttered like the wings of the earth birds he had seen bathing themselves in pools of water.

He found it strangely charming. He knew not what Prime thought,  looking upon the spark of his enemy, but he looked frightened. It didn't concern him. Primes fears were a weakness he refused to indulge.

Without ceremony he took Prime by the shoulder plates and brought their sparks together.

Prime jerked beneath his servos as their two souls reached to one another, touching, searching. He could feel his spark dancing tentatively outwards, partially leaving the safety of his spark chamber to greet Primes own spark. The two orbs touched, sending a shock through his frame as his spark was quite rapidly engulfed,  the two energies, once whole and separate, began to push into each other, fusing until two were becoming one.

The pulsations that were so unalike moments before became synchronized, he began to feel the pull as his own spark changed to accommodate Prime and, by the stuttering of Primes vents, he knew the other mech was experiencing the same disorienting sensation. It was as if his entire being was being pulled towards a force that was staggering in its power but, rather than fighting, he willingly allowed himself to be taken in and embraced by it. Perhaps this was what it felt when one died, to be so embraced by Primus.

As powerful as it was, it wasn't like the old stories used to tell. Tales of being able to feel each other's emotions and even memories, a romantic notion. The reality was both less and more than the old stories. It wasn't the upheaval of self where the two halves became so intertwined as to make the individual forget themselves. Rather it was like being warmed by the sun, a gradual sensation as the chill of loneliness was being driven out and replaced by warmth. The gentle settling of the suns rays on ones outer plates, sinking deep to warm your very protoform; it was very much like the sensation of bonding to another. Primes own self seemed to fill him, enveloping his spark in a warm embrace.

He felt his optics dim, then offline and his helm fell forward to rest against Primes as he let himself revel in the novel feeling of being completely at peace.

He could feel Primes servos on his shoulder plates and allowed the contact.

Megatron couldn't say how or why but they ever so gradually moved closer, touching and leaning closer to the other as though wanting to mimic the sensation in their sparks.

It was good. Peaceful.

Then a thought struck him.

He put pressure on Primes shoulder plates and pushed him to the soft earth. Prime went willingly, a glazed look in his optics.

Megatron fumbled his claws between the juncture of Primes thighs and worked his interface panel open with the tips of his claws, careful not to damage the delicate sensors and wires. Prime gave a soft murmur that Megatron couldn't make sense of, though it didn't sound like a negative response. Bolstered by Primes uncharacteristically pliant behavior he opened his own panel and allowed his spike to pressurize, pressing the tip against the tip of Primes valve and pushed forward. At the first touch it was as though a need he had never known existed suddenly made itself known, as if he had lived his life not knowing he needed air and with that first sweet inhale he was truly alive.

Being inside Prime while bonded was a magnificent feeling. The scorching heat of his valve in sharp contrast to the gentle warmth of their developing bond. He pressed forward with a sharp jerk, breaking through the seal he knew would be there. Prime didn't utter a sound but, to his astonishment, a sickly feeling of distress that wasn't his own washed through him.

He cradled Primes helm to his own and waited. It took considerable willpower not to move, not to go deeper, but he held himself as still as a statue for Primes sake, allowing the mech to adjust. The distress slowly calmed and was replaced with the contentment of before.

He began to move.

Prime was too caught up in their bonding to physically react, seemingly overwhelmed by the sensation of being drawn into another. Megatron felt a fond sort of exasperation. Trust Prime to let him do all the work.

His exasperation rapidly faded as the sensation of being fully joined overtook him.

He kept a slow rocking pace, deep within Prime and in no hurry to remove himself from either his spark or his valve.  Prime seemed to agree in his own way, rolling his hips languidly in time to Megatrons own gentle pace, optics dimmed in such a way that it made the energon in Megatrons lines rush.

"Megatron," Prime whispered into his audials. "You should know I had Ratchet install the reproductive coding in me."

The Prime gasped as Megatron buried himself firmly inside Primes still tender valve, the pressure bordering on pain as he withdrew and thrust just as deeply. Prime squirmed in discomfort and his legs tried to close in reflex.

"Stay open for me, Prime," he rasped. "You wished for penance, forgiveness, allow me this and I will never speak another word of your deed. It will all be forgotten if you just give me this one thing." Primus he had never wished for anything so desperately in his life but he wanted, no, needed, Prime to bear his mechling. He was no stranger to possessiveness but this urge to own Prime in any way possible was overwhelming to the point where it frightened even him.  His entire being cried out for him to make Prime his, to tie his new bondmate to him in every way.

When Prime consented he felt his very spark swell with relief and began setting a near violent pace that had Prime shaking in his hold.

He didn't last long, and when he finally overloaded he could both hear himself and feel Prime following him into this wonderful, painful ecstasy.

He stayed where he was, so close to Prime, unwilling or unable to let go. His frame shook as small aftershocks raced through him, the sensation almost uncomfortable as every shudder rocked his frame and moved him inside of Prime, stimulating oversensitive circuitry.

When he pulled away he did so with a heavy groan, not entirely willing to leave but so worn and tender he could no longer stay where he was.

As his spark left Primes and he pulled away he was slightly alarmed to see Prime laying on the ground, unresponsive. His spark chamber and valve still obscenely open to the world.

Megatron closed the spark chamber carefully, giving the little ball of light a last look before it disappeared from sight. Prime interface panel was somewhat more difficult. Megatron could only wince at the sight of the energon stained, abraded valve. Most mechs never experienced interface in this way, preferring to obtain their pleasure through processor interface using a neural uplink. Physical interface, while not uncommon, was seen as both the more dangerous and the more uncouth style of interface due to the potential damage that an inexperienced or cruel 'bot could inflict on such a sensitive and unprotected part of the frame.

It was clear his inexperience had caused Prime injury. He winced, thinking of his own recovery period after Primes clumsy attempt at physically interfacing with him. If Primes injuries were anything like his own he would be in pain for some time.

Unsurprisingly, that thought did nothing to inspire sympathy in him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Prime, come online now."

Prime inhaled slowly and grimaced. "I am online."

"Are you injured."

A pause. "No, just sore."

"It will pass."

Primes optics onlined and he looked at Megatron with unfocused optics. There was silence between them and it was little wonder why, the enormity of what they had just done was so profound Megatron could scarcely believe he didn't feel in any way changed by it. He could only carry on as he always had in the knowledge that his actions today, Primes actions, would echo a change through the generations of their race. For better or worse.

Prime shifted under him, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Megatron took the hint and heaved his exhausted frame off the other mech with a low groan. The physical aspect of interface was not so very strenuous but he felt as though he had no strength left. Perhaps bonding had weakened him in some way. He did not know. He had never bonded to another before.

Megatron thoughts flitted through his processor as he watched Prime.

The mech had yet to rise and was staring into the blue sky overhead with a blank expression.  After a long while he began to move, slow and stiff and Megatron couldn't help but feel a sharp vengeful glee at Primes suffering.

He offered no help and no words as Prime gingerly rose to his pedes and Prime didn't ask for any. Instead the Prime avoided his optics and rose under his own power, pedes shaky upon the ground, unsteady as a mechling but determined not to show his weakness. Megatron commended him for that. At least if he was to have a bondmate it wouldn't be with a weak or cowardly mech.

His thoughts were such as Prime rose.

Then something seemed to ... change.

He couldn't say with any certainty what changed. Prime rose to his full height, standing tall and unbowed before him, those now bright optics looked at him with an unwavering stare that seemed to pierce his very core. The light of the sun shone favorably on the Prime, reflecting off his pristine frame in such a way that he seemed to glow with an inner radiance which made Megatron feel drab in comparison.

He looked beautiful. Proud and regal like a true Prime should and it was as though Megatrons tanks had bottomed out on him. He felt unworthy to be in the presence of something so ... perfect.

"Megatron," said Prime, his voice coloured with concern.

Megatron flinched away. No. No! These feelings, whatever they were, they were not natural. They were not his true feelings.

"Are you unwell."

Prime would ask him that, standing there looking unsteady as a newly sparked protoform but ever more worried about others before himself. Fool. "I am well, Prime. Do not concern yourself with me."

A soft laugh, ever so slightly tainted with a hard, bitter edge. "Is it not proper to concern myself with my bondmate?"

Megatron averted his eyes from the striking figure of the Prime, unwilling to let himself become bewitched by the gentle optics and strong, steady voice. He willed himself to forget the sensation of being inside of the Prime and how gloriously complete he had felt sliding into that tight channel. "A bond of convenience, nothing more. You are no more obligated to care for me now than you were before the bond."

Prime hummed a small noise that could mean anything. "I am incapable of doing that. Despite the atrocities you have committed, the losses I have suffered at your hands .. despite everything I cannot forget that you are the one who bore my offspring. The mech who I am now bonded to. I find I am ... glad to share this bond with you."

"And I find myself utterly unsurprised. You would feel a sentimental attachment to any mech or femme who carried your spawn. That is the mech you are."

"Guilty as charged," Prime admitted with a self conscious smile. He shifted, wincing.

Megatron turned his optics back on Prime, quashing the feeling rising in him, the urge to be concerned and assure himself of Primes wellbeing. Instead he reacted as he normally would have. With mocking and derision, softened slightly in light of their newly forged alliance. "Feeling a little sore, Prime."

The glare shot his way was enough to make him shut his mouth but he couldn't help the, ever so slightly, mean spirited smirk that wouldn't leave his facial plates.

"It is nothing I can't handle." He hesitated a moment before he spoke again. "You realize through your actions there is a good chance -"

"Yes, Prime," Megatron interrupted. "In retrospect making a decision like that in the heat of the moment was not the most well thought out of plans but it can only be beneficial to us. The path is set for an alliance of our two halves and a new mechling brought about by our union and carried by yourself can only strengthen the legitimacy of our bond in the optics of others. It will grant me favor with my soldiers and make the bond between us seem as though one of equals."

He turned his optics away again, unwilling to see the expression of disappointment Prime was sure to be aiming his way. He knew for Prime the introduction of a new mechling into the world was something that should be viewed with reverence and care. His words, though they were not meant to sound harsh, undoubtedly came off as such.

 "Had I not seen how you are with Orion I would think you were a mech incapable of feeling," Prime eventually said to him.

Megatron replied, "I did not get to be leader of the Decepticons by acting like an Autobot. I will leave expressions of feelings in your capable servos, I have no need of the grand emotional gestures you seem to be so fond of."

"I hardly think myself a mech who engages in 'grand emotional gestures'."

"Call it what you will."

There was a soft sigh, then Prime said, "I should be leaving. I need to think on my next course of action."

"Of course."

Neither of them moved. Megatron dared to look at Prime, once again struck by how forcefully the bond drove into his processor his own desire for Prime. It had always been there, how could it not be, since the moment Orion Pax had won him over with his sweet demeanor and strong, if naive, convictions he had felt this ... thing. He had never felt the love for Optimus Prime that he felt for Orion Pax and it was easy to forget or ignore his feelings for the lost librarian by reasoning that Prime was not the same mech.

Now, however, he could not reconcile the two.  When he looked at Optimus Prime he saw Orion Pax in a way he never had before.

It was maddening, as though a long dead friend had risen with no memory of their friendship. He wanted to say or do something. He wanted to keep Prime with him just a few kilks longer, wanted to embrace him and bask in his presence. He wished for the hall Orion Pax worked in where he would sit quietly and watch Orion Pax until the other mech grew too self-conscious and kicked him out with an amused 'don't you have better things you could be doing'.

"I suppose parting words are unnecessary," Prime said.

Megatron didn't answer.

Prime nodded, looking unruffled, but Megatron got the impression he was expecting something and was disappointed he had not received it.

"I will be in contact."

Then he walked away, a ground bridge appearing a ways away, called for by internal comm.

Megatron watched him go in silence.

He wanted to call him back. Instead he said nothing and watched Prime disappear into the ground bridge, feeling a sick turning in his tanks that he refused to call regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I want to thank everyone who reviewed, you guys keep me motivated like nothing else and it's truly a pleasure to read your lovely comments.  
> Next chapter is likely going to be a bit later in being posted unfortunately but I'll try to have it up ASAP.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys, I'm not dead! I've just been supremely lazy but thank you all so much for everyone who kept sending me nice messages on my mini-hiatus and being so patient in waiting. If there is any major spelling, grammar or plot mistakes it's because I sort of rushed the editing process in an attempt to stop my lazy self from delaying posting. Please fell free to point out any major mistakes and I'll fix them right up.

Breakdown couldn’t help the terrified hiccup that escaped his vents when Megatron left. Knockout snorted at the sound.

“Look whose teacher's pet,” the grounder said in a tone that was far more friendly than his words made it seem.

“Jealous?”

A sneer passed across the handsome face briefly, “You wish. Why would I be jealous of having to watch a squalling, messy, disgusting –“

A burst of static cut Knockout off. Everyone turned to the direction of the noise. Soundwave stood, silent and unmoving as a statue, his blank faceplate reflecting their faces back at them. Knockout, realizing exactly whose spawn he had just been calling disgusting quickly backpedaled.

“Er, that is to say, naturally I volunteered first to care for our most glorious leaders heir. Of course I don’t think he’s messy or disgusting. Just look at the little scraplet, he’s so … so … clean and … cute?” Knockout trailed off, realizing not a single mech present was buying it. “Oh you can all just throw yourselves in the scrap heap.”

Soundwave merely gave Knockout a very long look and turned to leave. No words needed to be said, they all heard the silent threat.

The three remaining mechs all breathed a sigh of relief when the Communication Officer was gone. Though it might have made sense for Soundwave to be the mech to care for Megatrons spawn his duties were too important and numerous to spare him for long, to the relief of all present.

Now that they were free from scrutiny all three mechs turned their attention to the mechling who was oogling up at them.

Three pairs of optics stared down at one tiny pair of optics.

"Megatron and Optimus Prime," Knockout said.

"Yeah," Breakdown agreed.

"How does one even begin to imagine the ways that this is wrong?" Knockouts voice was hushed, as if in awe of the sheer wrongness that the mechling represented. "Have you seen how organics procreate?"

Starscreams facial plates twisted in disgust. Breakdown shuddered. They had all seen the vids.

"Can you even imagine Megatron .... thrusting?"

"For the love of Primus, Knockout, stop," Starcream shouted.

"I will, I will ... but from a purely medical standpoint I'm curious. Are there fluids involved? Bodily fluids? Like lubricants or-"

Starscream lunged forward and slapped his servo over Knockouts mouth. "If you say one more word about thrusting or fluids I will murder you in the most painfully imaginative way I can think of. And we all know how imaginative I can be."

Starscream removed his servo and took a step back, staring at Knockout pointedly.

Knockout rubbed his face and grinned. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" The seekers optics narrowed and he flexed his claws. Knockout held up his servos in surrender. "Ok, I'll stop."

"Please do," Breakdown said, "there's a mechling present."

The two mechs as one turned to face him, zeroing in on the mechling who gave a happy shriek at the sudden attention.

“I want to hold him,” Starscream declared. Without asking he scooped the mechling out of Breakdowns servos and brought him up close, eyeing the features of Orions face with a critical optic, turning his little face this way and that and poking at his wing nubs with a thoughtful hum. “I think he looks like me.” Breakdown nearly laughed but Starscream shoved the mechling close to his face and put his own face right next to it. “Look.”

Knockout moved around to get a look. Both mechs compared the two.

“That’s creepy,” Breakdown finally said.

“Uncanny,” Knockout agreed.

Though the mechlings features were much softer and rounder and he was lacking Starscreams distinctive chin and crest, he did seem to bear more resemblance to Starscream than to Megatrons admittedly less than graceful features. But Starscreams facial plates had always maintained a wide-eyed, mechling-like appearance even after a millennia so Starscream was likely to resemble any mechling to a degree. Just another reason most mechs and femmes hated Starscream, no one that looked like that should be so crazy. It just wasn't right.

“Anything you want to tell us, Starscream,” Knockout asked, implication clear in his voice.

“If you’re implying that I’ve been fragging around with Megatron-“

“Well you did say he looks like you. And we all know how eager you are to, er, please Megatron."

“What,” squawked Starscream, face gone slack in shock. "How dare you imply that I, that Megatron and I, THAT WE - UGH!"

“I bet you're into some really kinky slag,” Knockout commented with far too much glee in his voice.

“Thank you for that, Knockout,” Breakdown said. “I don’t think I could have lived the rest of my life without that processor image."

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

“What doesn’t suit me is imagining Starscream and Megatron -“

“Don’t you even finish that thought,” Starscream shrieked.

“-Thruuuuuusting,” Breakdown said, drawing the word out.

“Ew,” Knockout murmured after a moment of appropriately horrified silence.

"I know."

"I HATE YOU ALL! I HOPE YOU RUST IN THE PIT, SLAGGERS! TAKE THIS THING, I DON'T EVEN WANT TO LOOK AT IT!"

Starscream shoved the mechling into Breakdowns servos and stalked away. Breakdown and Knockout watched him go with equal expressions of amusement. Orion seemed happy to be in Breakdowns servos again, leaning down and biting him with as much force as his little mouth could manage, which wasn't much. Breakdown frown at the mechling.

"You know," said Breakdown, "we're probably going to pay for that later."

"It'll be worth it. Starscreams the most obnoxiously vain mech. To think the mechling looks like him. Please. The little fragger obviously looks like me, my features are far more refined and, look, he has my optics."

"Starcreams not the only vain one."

Knockout gave him a pained look and shook his head as though pitying the state of Breakdowns mental processes. "Firstly, I'm not vain. Secondly, even if I was, I'm most certainly not obnoxious about it."

Knockout continued on but Breakdown was already turning him out, long since used to the grounders self absorbed rants.

Sometimes Breakdown thought he was the only one on board who could objectively see the insanity that was their command crew. His leader spent half his time tweaking on dark energon and the other half alternating between trying to kill Prime and kill Starscream. Now it seemed his spend the better part of his days getting organic with the leader of the Autobots. Starscream spent most of his time plotting to overthrow everyone and anyone, alternating that with bemoaning the lack of respect given to him. Knockout, was a vain, petty little thing with an ego that, if given physical form, would probably end up with a few planets orbiting it. Soundwave was just ... Soundwave. And then there was him. The only shining light of sanity and responsibility on board. He suspected he was the only one aside from Soundwave who actually did their job and didn't actively try to find new ways to disgrace the title of Decepticon.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Breakdown just sighed and hiked the mechling up. "Of course, Knockout."

"Good because I'll have you know-"

RED ALERT

The two mechs jumped. Orion gave a startled cry as red lights began flashing through the room and the intruder alert sounded.

Knockout and Breakdown looked at each other.

"Autobots," they said as one.

***

Megatron flew fast and hard through the skies as though he was being chased by the specter of Unicron himself. He pushed himself to his limit and when he reached that point he flew faster until every part of his being was focused on moving.

The wind at these speeds was a physical force keeping him from achieving true perfection and so he left the planet, rising high into the atmosphere and past until the whistling of wind on his wings was replaced by the burn of the atmosphere and then the cool silence of space. The darkness greeted him. He greeted it back in the language of fliers, powering his thrusters and flipping himself end on end until he was spiraling almost out of control, reveling in his freedom.

He performed acrobatics until his body refused to continue.

It was the curse of his frame type, he was a mech built for sudden bursts of speed and power, spare and efficient and that was it. It had not been an issue he had concerned himself with in the past, his frame had served him well, it was only when he left Kaon that he became truly aware of his frames ... disadvantages. In Kaon he had been the envy of all, powerful, strong, dominant, mechs and femmes looked at him with varying degrees of want. Some wanted to be like him, some merely wanted him. He was the lone mech who wanted for nothing. When he had left the mines and made a name for himself as Megatronus he had thought himself among the most desirable of mechs, and nobody in Kaon seemed to disagree.

Then he left and saw for himself a world outside of the great city of filth and violence.

He saw the Praxians with their monochromatic colours and unique doorwings, so small compared to himself and with a frame complexity he found intriguing. He saw the magnificent towers of Vos and the seekers that inhabited them. He had made the acquaintance of a seeker by the name of Starscream and was struck with the sleek beauty of the mechs and femmes that inhabited the towers. He could recall with perfect clarity the first time he had ever truly realized he was ugly. It was the first time he had ever met Starscream, seeing the mech strutting down the hall towards him, thrusters clicking delicately against the polished metal of the floor, long willowy limbs moving so gracefully. He was so beautiful it was almost painful to look at him and Megatron was intensely aware of how clumsy and monstrous he must appear to such a pretty mech. Then Starscream opened his mouth and ruined the moment but Megatron kept that initial impression with him, having been exposed to what true beauty was he was all too aware of how short he fell.

Then he want to Iacon, a city so unlike Kaon it was almost beyond comprehension.

There he met another mech, not a true beauty like those he had seen in Vos but he compensated in demeanor and mannerisms what he lacked in appearance.

If he felt ugly in Vos then he felt truly hideous in Iacon. He was not a mech to care what others thought and he conducted himself with pride and confidence but he was all too aware in his dealings with a certain young data clerk that he must appear an uncultured brute. Orion Pax was too good a mech to judge him for it and Optimus Prime was no different, a mech so good he truly did not care about appearance.

Primus, his past was determined to haunt him, every action and feeling he had left unresolved or unacknowledged was coming back to haunt him. Every deeply buried feeling of inadequacy was now rearing its head and he hated himself for it.

No, what he hated wasn't anything rational like that. He didn't hate that he was ugly, he didn't even hate that others thought he was ugly. He hated that Orion Pax and then Optimus Prime were such good mechs that they didn't care about his appearance. Prime was such a sickeningly good mech he would honestly look past appearances to a mechs deeds and actions and judge them accordingly. And Primus help him, he had looked into Primes soul when they were bound and saw only goodness in the mechs spark and he couldn't feel glad, he felt only ... ugly.

It was as if the taint and ugliness of his soul had manifested in his physical appearance. It was inconceivable for a mech to care for someone who was so thoroughly corrupt in both deed and appearance but Prime did and Megatron couldn't even work up the will to feel triumphant.

He hated that Prime could do this to him, make him want to be a better mech.

He was Megatron, a mech whose name carried such weight even the mention of it struck fear in the sparks of foe and friend alike, if anyone should have transcended wanting to be more than they were it was him. And yet here he was, flying in the blackness of space because he couldn't even bear to be on the same planet as Prime, a mech who could, simply by being himself, make Megatron feel so wholly inadequate.

Pathetic.

He transformed.

Staring at the lovely orb of blue and white and green of the planet called Earth he reflected that the planet was truly a thing of beauty, particularly the way the light entering the planet's atmosphere fell so favorably on Prime.

Megatron knew it was futile to deny it to himself anymore. He cared for Prime. No. It was worse. He loved Prime. Loved him so completely it was as though he was half a mech without Prime. It was like a disease ravaging him, one that he had left untended for so long that it had consumed him from the inside out. He could blame the bond, could say that the feelings were fabricated and in a way he would be right. He hadn’t felt this strongly for Prime before the bond and yet ... a bond could not create feelings, a bond could not even be achieved if the two parties were incompatible. He had loved Orion Pax so strongly that when Optimus Prime took his place it was as though Orion Pax had ceased to be so thoroughly he may as well have been murdered by Prime.

It was untrue but he had carried the resentment with him for so long that any feelings he may have had for Prime were buried under layers of hate and loss so deep any other feelings seemed not to matter. The bond took those feelings and brought them to the forefront. Fleeting thoughts and secret wishes that might have remained unfulfilled. The bond allowed him to see Optimus Prime for who he truly was.

Orion Pax.

Megatron could feel himself shaking.

He couldn’t do this now. He couldn’t face vorns worth of buried emotions when there was so much else to occupy his processor.

His mental self flagellation might have gone on had he not received a ping form his comm. link. Soundwave was calling him with a secondary message that labelled the communication as urgent. He allowed the link to open.

“Orion: missing. Autobot: designation Bumblebee sighted on board. Lord Megatrons intervention required immediately."

***

Optimus's plan, upon arrival back to the base, was to relax.

His team had been on him for as long as he could remember about that very subject. He worked too hard, they said; they all seemed to be under the impression that he took no time to himself. On the contrary, he found adequate time for reflection and contemplation in the breems before he went into recharge. It was a peaceful time and allowed him to look back on the events of the day with a clear processor, much like the human practice of meditation.

He knew his idea of relaxation wasn't the same as the rest of his team but, as a Prime and their leader, he felt he had to set a good example, regardless of if they followed his lead or not.

Today, however, was different. He wasn't going to reflect or meditate.

No, he was going to do something Miko referred to as 'R&R'. Rest and relaxation. Today he planned to do nothing but lay on his berth and possibly stare at the ceiling until his processor stopped reeling from the events that had just taken place.

His arrival back to base was met with no ceremony or fanfare, merely a curious glance from Ratchet which he shook his helm at, indicating he was in not prepared to talk.

Ratchet respected his wishes and turned back to his console.

A part of Optimus wished Ratchet had asked him where he was, what he had done. Something.

It didn't feel right that he could return to base after something so momentous with hardly a glance from his friend. He wanted to do something uncharacteristic, like grin and shout to the heavens or fall to his knees and cry out in agony. He didn't know what his own emotions were. It hurt that his bonding was one of obligation and duty. Had he the choice his bonding would have been with one he loved. There were those who accused him of being a sentimental mech but he didn't believe wanting such a thing was a sign of sentimentality. Wasn't it only natural to want such a thing? His life was one filled with obligation and duty and though he did not regret the path his life had taken he often found himself wishing for something of his own. In a life spent in dedication to others was it so much to ask that he be able to bond to one of his own choosing? Such a small thing and yet he was denied it.

His spark ached for the loss.

And yet, in some strange way he had gotten his wish.

It was a cruel twist of fate that he was to be bonded to a mech he once fancied himself in love with. Though their history was greatly marred with conflict and death on either side he could still remember those many ages ago in the Hall of Records, seeing the tall mech for the first time and being so in awe of him.

Even thinking of their past relationship brought him some measure of happiness. His blatant infatuation must have been laughable to a mech such as Megatron, but he had been so young and in his optics Megatron was nothing less than a warrior of legend brought to life.

Megatron was not always the mech he was now. Once he had been just as idealistic and foolish as Prime knew himself to have been and, Primus, but he loved him for it. Orns spent sharing their ideas for the future in quiet corners, then sharing stories of their own lives. Megatron cast no judgment when Orion Pax described his privileged and sheltered life and Orion Pax was sympathetic when hearing of the hardships Megatron had experienced. Hardships that made Megatron even more magnificent in Orion Pax's optics.

That was a time when he would have given anything to have a bond with Megatron.

Now, to finally have a bond with him, after the vorns had eroded awe into fear and infatuation into regret ... it was unspeakably cruel.

Optimus made his way to his quarters and quietly closed the door.

He walked to the berth and gingerly sat, mindful of the pain radiating through his lower parts.

To have not only bonded to Megatron but to have physically interfaced.

It seemed as though his body was trying to punish him for performing such an act. He ached terribly, a steady throbbing that he could do nothing to alleviate.

Perhaps it was for the best. Their union was not to be one of love and it was wise not to indulge in fantasies. The pain was useful, it grounded him.

Optimus lay on the berth, moving himself into a comfortable position and found himself staring at the grey ceiling above him.

He felt lonely.

He was lonely and had been for some time.

A mech eternally set apart from those he called friends and family. Now, bonded to a mech he could call his equal, he was even more alone.

The small part of himself that was Orion Pax cried. Optimus Prime did not cry, outwardly he was calm and composed, staring at the plain ceiling with no discernible expression. No mech looking at him would know that a hopelessly romantic data clerk, buried so deep within that tranquil mech on the berth, was weeping.

He wallowed in his thoughts for a time when a tapping on his door roused him.

Duty called.

With a grimace he slowly rose, acutely feeling his frames protestations at the movement and went to see who was disturbing him.

The mech on the other side of the door was Ratchet.

"Is everything ok," Optimus inquired politely, fervently hoping Ratchet would say yes so he could lay down. He truly despised the deviant mech who had ever thought up the idea of physical interface.

"Er ... you could say that. It's not not ok."

Optimus' optics narrowed in suspicion. "What has Miko done this time?"

Ratchet actually scratched the back of his helm. Slag, he wasn't going to like this. "No, nothing like that. It's just, well, yes it involves Miko - and Raf - but it was mostly Bumblebees fault."

Even better.

"This is about losing Orion to the Decepticons, isn't it," he said flatly. Ratchet nodded his affirmative. Optimus could guess where this was going. "They staged an unauthorized rescue mission ... didn't they."

Ratchet cringed slightly under his Primes eerily clam optics. "You might say that."

"And would I be correct in assuming they are now on board the Nemesis?"

If the situation wasn't so serious Optimus might have found Ratchets expression funny. "Not exactly. Maybe even the opposite."

"Ratchet, I am weary of word games. Tell me what has happened."

"Yes, well, we may be playing host to a Decepticon or two at the moment. Here. In the base. Specifically Breakdown, who seems to be living up to his designation, and Knockout ... who is also living up to his designation ... currently ... on the floor," Ratchet said, his word slowly trailing off into an awkward mumble.

And really, all he could do was sigh.

"Very well. I will contact Megatron and inform him of the situation."

Ratchet shook his helm and muttered, "Never thought I'd live to see the day when we're giving Megatron, of all mechs, status reports."

Optimus secretly agreed but, for the sake of consistency said, "If we are to build good diplomatic relations it is prudent to -"

"I know, I know. Slag it all, I'm an old mech, I don't take well to change."

He couldn't help but smile and reached out to place a servo on Ratchets shoulder plates. "It is an adjustment for all but I find it preferable to fighting, my friend. We're all of us old mechs and I think it's time for a rest."

"You're telling me, I can barely roll out of my berth in the morning without my struts aching, but nevermind that. I'll leave you to call up old buckethead."

Optimus laughed, a loud bark that took him by surprise. Ratchet grinned up at him. Optimus tried his best not to grin back. It was inappropriate to laugh at an insult to his bondmate. "I have not heard him called that in a long time."

"Don't tell him I called him that."

"I will try to refrain."

Ratchet left and Optimus opened up his personal comm. link to Megatron.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T ADJUST YOUR MONITORS, WHAT YOU'RE SEEING IS REAL. I've finally updated. And about damn time to. I just want all the people who commented and asked me to please continue this story to know, I read every one of your comments and you guys were my motivation to complete this thing finally. The final chapter is already written I just have to re-read and edit it so I should have it up by next week or sooner.  
> Thank you to all you amazing folks who commented and kudo'd this fic. You all are brilliant and I hope the final two chapters don't disappoint.
> 
> If you notice any inconsistencies please let me know.

Megatrons first instinct was rage, a core deep sense of betrayal that almost surprised him in its intensity. Megatron was torn between a visceral need to hurt something for daring to steal away his Creation and a sense of fear so raw it he felt brittle from it.

Only moments later his rational mind caught up with him and he felt like a fool because he knew Optimus had nothing to gain from this action. Better yet, he knew even if Optimus did have something to gain he would not have resorted to kidnapping to achieve this goal, not after everything that had happened. He knew this but he still couldn't help the tremors of fear and anger that shook the plating of his frame. He had only gotten Orion back, had scarcely even held the mechling before he was leaving him in the care of his, clearly incompetent, lieutenants.

Maybe worse than the fear or the anger was the guilt.

He wasn't a mech that often indulged in emotions like that but he found himself becoming well acquainted with all the weaker emotions he hadn't felt since Cybertron, emotions he wished he could purge from his processor.

He hated it.

Still, he couldn't deny he felt sensations of guilt for leaving Orion. For the confusion the mechling must be feeling; to be reunited with his Creator only to have him leave, then to be taken away by force mere hours after their reunion. For Megatron to have abandoned him in the first place.

This was no way for a mechling to live.

This was no way for anyone to live.

He was tired.

Truly exhausted, and perhaps it was the bonding or Orions kidnapping or simply that fact that he felt as though the life he had built up over millennia was all for nothing. What good had he really accomplished? What promises had he kept? What use was there for an old, battle hardened mech in this new world he was trying to build? He didn't know and it was something he needed to figure out.

So while every part of him wanted to contact Optimus and demand to see Orion he didn't. Instead he flew.

The Pit, upon seeing it again, was as cold and isolated as he remembered. The season had taken its toll and the usually green grass was brown, the forest still a ruin from his tantrum, the sky above a bleak grey.

It was perfect.

He set himself down on the beach and then just sat and stared out at the roiling grey ocean.

A few seals nearby looked at him curiously. He ignored them and lay back, not caring about the sand and little organics that may crawl through the seams of his plating. His time on The Pit had desensitized him to such minor irritations.

While he lay on the beach Soundwave and Optimus pinged him several times. He ignored them.

It was both immature and cowardly and he knew it but he maintained his silence as the sounds of the organic planet washed over him and calmed his processor. Let them worry. He would have this moment of peace before being forced to face reality again. Before facing his own Creation, a thing he had never wanted but now could scarcely imagine his life without; before facing Optimus, his bondmate and a mech who had been both friend and enemy to him for so long he could barely separate the two in his own mind; before facing the Decepticons, who he felt as though he were betraying even as he knew he was saving them.

And here he was, hiding away on an island he had never wished to set foot on again because it felt safer than facing this brave new world of alliances and hope and ... a world without war.

The fighting hadn't even officially ceased yet and he was already missing it.

What was the great Megatron without war?

Could he truly be content to sit around and play Caretaker to his own Creation when his very being craved conflict and violence?

The answer was no.

He could not be that mech.

And yet he could not hold back progress for his own selfish whims. He could not put his own desires over the fate of his people.

It would be better to be an unhappy mech, grown stiff and useless, bonded to one who held no great love for him, than to continue on in this ceaseless fight until he was the last of his kind, or better yet, dead.

And maybe that's why he came back to this island.

It was a goodbye.

Not a goodbye to the island but a goodbye to the freedom this island had taken away, a freedom that would be denied him even when he left.

And it was amazing how suddenly this island was less of a prison and more of a bubble. He could ignore the outside world from here and not have to make the hard decisions. As long as he was here he could maintain the illusion that his life was as it always had been.

He had not been happy, far from it. But at least it was something he knew.

This new world he was entering into frightened him more than he could ever admit to another living soul, more so than he even cared to admit to himself.

"Megatron."

He onlined his optics and looked up to see Optimus Prime, of all mechs, looking down at him in concern.

"How did you find me?"

"Soundwave."

He gave a humourless huff of laughter. "And my Communications Officer thought it wise to give you the location of my whereabouts?"

"I called the Nemesis to let you know Orion was safe and that his impromptu 'rescue' was not of my doing. Soundwave and I spoke. I didn't even know he could speak but, as it turns out, he was quite angry with me and spared no insult in telling me so."

"Consider yourself lucky, Autobot. Few mechs have ever heard his voice, let alone lived to tell about it."

Prime was silent for a long while. "Autobot? Is that what you choose to call your bondmate?"

"Let us not pretend our union is more than what it is." And how it hurt to say so. "A political alliance doesn't change our history."

"No, but then our history is so much more than you pretend it to be. You were once my friend, as I hope you may be again."

He hummed noncommittally.

"Megatron, get up. Sulking does not suit you."

"Is that what I am doing? Sulking," he asked politely, raising an eyebrow at Prime.

"It would be obvious to anyone with optics that is exactly what you are doing. The question is why? And I can make a fair guess as to that. Would you like me to try?"

"You think you know me so well as to guess at my thoughts?"

A small smile graced Primes face. "Perhaps. I know you are as uncertain as I am of the future. Unlike me you shut yourself away. Impenetrable Megatron, a mech without emotions, or so you would like the universe to believe. That has always been great failing of yours, if I may be so bold as to say. You try to take on too much alone and when you can no longer manage it you fall back to your usual tactics. Fighting. War. Battle. No problem of yours can't be solved with your fists. Until now." He paused to gauge Megatrons reaction. The other mech was as blank as a stone wall. "Am I right?"

"Uncomfortably so."

"As I suspected. I told Soundwave as much. That is why he gave me your coordinates."

"Traitor," he muttered.

"Would it surprise you to know I share your fears?" Prime gingerly sat down in the sand, clearly uncomfortable with the texture of it and keeping a wary eye on the seals as he did so. "I know it is not in your nature to assume the point of view of another but you should understand that for nearly as long as I have been Prime I have been at war. I can hardly remember a time before that. Orion Pax, he seems like a different mech to me. Perhaps that is why our divide grew so large. You loved Orion, not Optimus."

Megatron startled at the mention of love. Optimus gave him an infuriatingly understanding look.

"It took me a long time to realize why you hated me so much. There was always a resentment in your optics I couldn't understand until I came to this realization. How could you stand to see the face of the mech who had taken the body and mind of your dear friend and warped him into something else."

Optimus' words rang truer than he could ever have imagined, echoing thoughts in his own processor. "I realize now this was not true. You are, and always have been, Orion Pax."

Optimus shrugged. "There was a part of me that was once that young Archivist, but the Matrix and the passage of time have effectively killed whatever part of me was still him. He might as well be dead and that thought does not make me proud. I came to the realization that Orion Pax would not be happy knowing I am his legacy to the world. He would have been horrified."

Megaton sat up then, studying Primes face. The other mech was staring off into the distance looking troubled. "Maybe. Maybe not. It could be that we have idealized our memories of him to the point of fabrication. Orion was a good mech, and you are right, I did love him. He truly was the embodiment of everything I had wanted to aspire to. Back in those days at least. But that mech is gone and there is only Optimus Prime and he is no less of an idealistic fool than Orion Pax was. Though perhaps with more weaponry."

Optimus laughed despite himself. Megatron basked in the sound before continuing.

"Orion Pax of Iacon is dead. After today I will never speak of him again. There is only Optimus Prime and my Creation who bears his name. I will not force either of you to live up to the memory of a ghost."

Optimus shuttered his optics and bowed his head. "Thank you," he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short but this was the natural point to leave it off. Once again, if you notice any plot holes or things like that let me know.  
> Soooo, stay tuned next time for the final chapter complete with totally optional epilogue. And, of course, thank you for reading.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the response from the last chapter was stunning.  
> This here is the last official chapter of this fic and I hope it doesn't disappoint.  
> It was always my intention to never focus too much attention on the aftermath of everything that had happened and to keep the focus on Megatron and his story. Just as a warning, I know some people were eagerly anticipating epic interactions between the Autobots and Decepticons but this is Megatrons story and I felt focusing too much on the other characters would be too much of a tone change after all this time.  
> Having said that, I hope you guys enjoy. And once again, thank you so much. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Transformers fans are the best.

They left The Pit by ground bridge and went straight to the Autobot base where the Autobots and their humans were waiting. Also present were Knockout, Breakdown and Soundwave.

Megatron and Optimus entered into a room that was shockingly not burning to the ground or otherwise in chaos.

The Autobots were on one side of the room keeping a wary optic on their unwanted guests and the Decepticons were, for the most part, acting like they didn't even see the Autobots. Megatron was sure that before they walked in Knockout must have been saying something annoying because some of the Autobots and all of the humans had the look of someone who was desperately trying not to throw a punch.

The moment they entered all optics went to Megatron.

Megatrons optics went to Orion who was sleeping in Ratchets servos.

Nobody spoke but their silence was louder than words.

The Auotbots had a look of impending doom in their optics, no doubt under the impression that Megatrons arrival at their base under the assumption of peace talks was all a cover for their inevitable destruction.

It was actually quite heartening that he could inspire such fear even after all that had happened. Not that they knew the details, if they did their expressions might be somewhat different.

"Autobots," Optimus began. "I ask you to welcome our guest."

Ratchet was the first to step forward. "Megatron," he greeted.

"Ratchet," he replied with barely a nod of acknowledgement, his attention was solely on the small, pearl grey frame in Ratchets servos. " I am pleased that our meeting is under less ... harrowing circumstances." Once assured that Orion looked well he turned to address the larger crowd. "Autobots. My Decepticons. Humans. Today you witness history. This marks the start of an official ceasefire that will take place while myself and the Autobot leader, Optimus Prime, begin peace negotiations."

"I am sure you all have questions," Optimus said before any protests or questions could be voiced. "However let any fears and concerns be laid to rest. For the moment nothing will change as far as our respective factions and freedoms. Indeed, the only thing that will have changed is our mutual cooperation in establishing peace. There has been much energon spilt between our two sides and any negotiations and legal documents are sure to be many years in the making so you need not fear radical changes. Our aim is to be as inclusive and transparent as possible in establishing peace."

Optimus looked to Megatron to continue. The assembled audience murmured uncomfortably at the unusual sight of the two leaders sharing the floor instead of their usual interactions of trying to blow each other sky high with increasingly bigger guns.

Megatron would have smirked if the mood wasn't so sombre.

"These peace negotiations are our last chance," he said. "I hope you all understand how necessary it is that these negotiation not only succeed but are strongly enforced. This is our last chance as a species. We number in the thousands and in another millennia, if these negotiations fail, we will all be dead. Our race, our planet, our culture, nothing will remain. I cannot say enough to impress upon you the direness of our situation. As such no threat to this ceasefire will be tolerated, not from any or you, or even myself. To prove this, Optimus Prime and myself have taken the first step in binding our two factions together."

Several optics widened. Others looked wary. The humans looked confused and it was the black haired human male that spoke first.

"Optimus, what does he mean?"

"What he is saying is that the two of us have entered into a bond."

Gasps and shouts of surprise filled the room. Both Megatron and Optimus were silent, allowing their respective allies to voice their opinions, majority of which were negative. As was expected.

"What does that mean," the human asked.

"It is much like the human concept of marriage," Optimus explained gently.

The human went pale and looked at Megatron, then back at Optimus.

"Oh. Wow."

Optimus smiled slightly at the humans expression and then turned to address the rest. He held up a servo and all went quiet. This was the part he had been most dreading. "There is another matter that needs discussing. These negotiations are a beginning but one that is ultimately useless without a way to propagate our species. Through a series of events that I will not discuss at this moment, Megatron, Ratchet and myself have discovered a way to create new Cybertronians. I am sure you all have questions regarding young Orions sudden appearance and I will admit I have lied to you, my Autobots, about the true nature of his being here today." He looked at Megatron before going on. Megatron gave a short not of assent. "We have discovered how to achieve a method of physical reproduction within in our species using a long forgotten code and a contribution of genetic materials from two separate 'bots. Orion has come into being through this, er, ... organic based union between myself and Megatron."

There was silence.

Dead, uncomfortable silence.

Everyone present looked horrified.

"Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me," Knockout said loudly.

A serious of outbursts followed that ranged from highly amusing ("Wait, which ones the girl," Miko demanded to know, staring at the large mechs as though seeing them with new eyes. She looked disturbingly intrigued. "How can they be girls?") to highly offended ("Optimus, how could you?" Ultra Magnus asked. "Fraternizing with the enemy? Creating unauthorized new life during wartime? I can't even begin to tell you how many laws and regulations you've broken. I'm going to have to submit this in an official report, I hope you know that.").

Megatron did his best to look unaffected by the scrutiny and words.

"Oh the Pentagon is _not_ going to like this," Fowler shouted, amid the chaos. "Robots having babies? And let me guess, Megatron is the proud mommy?"

"As a matter of fact yes," Megatron rumbled, crossing his arms over his broad chestplate and glaring down at the human. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Er ... no?"

"Good. See that it stays that way."

"This new code, of course, is not ready for mass distribution." Ratchet yelled over everyone, commanding the rooms attention and waiting until the noise had died down to continue. "I'll need help. Starscream and Soundwave are the most versed in scientific studies, I would be honoured to make this into a joint effort between our two factions."

"I have no objections," Megatron said. "Soundwave and Starscream are at your disposal. I will brief them on the specifics later." Both Ratchet and Soundwave were privy to the darker side of this coding but Starscream would need to be informed. He intended to keep a very close watch on the seeker. He would not risk the larger populace discovering what had been done to him those many months ago.

Ratchet nodded and stepped forward, holding out his sleeping Creation out to him.

All eyes were on them.

Megatron gently plucked Orion from the medics servos, bringing the small frame to his chestplates.

"Orion will naturally be dividing his time between the Nemesis and the Autobot base as he is neither Autobot nor Decepticon. He is the first of a new line of Cybertronians to be created without allegiances. He will not be the last."

 

*

 

Over the next few months an exhaustive series of meetings were held between the two factions and even the humans.

Peace, as it turned out, was more of a battlefield than war ever was, it was simply the mode of battle had changed from weapons to paper. Endless new laws had to be written up, negotiations between sides, a slow disarmament treaty as well as rules governing the co-mingling of factions and the limitations of Decepticon interaction with humans.

It was tedious and repetitive and maddeningly detail oriented.

Megatron took to the debating aspect of it well enough but, as suspected he was not a mech well suited to sitting still and going over legalese documents with a fine tooth comb while Orion flailed around on his lap.

He wasn't unhappy though. Far from it.

For all his original fears very few of them had materialised and, to his surprise, he found himself being valued more now than ever before. Where once his ship ran as a near self functioning entity to the point where he could disappear for years at a time and come back to find everything more or less where he left it, he was now in a state of constant demand on and off his ship.

His Decepticons needed him to stand as their leader in a way that meant more than being at the front lines of battle with them. They looked to him to lead the way in interacting with Autobots and the few humans they now came into regular contact with. He was respected. No, that was wrong. He had always commanded respect. This was something else. His crew looked to him for guidance and now, rather than barking orders or delegating the task, he answered. He was no longer in a position to act as an arrogant, impatient warrior. Megatron would always be a warrior, it was in his spark, but he had added new facets to himself in those months.

In time he believe he could learn to love this new role of his almost as much as did the battlefield.

Diplomacy was its own sort of battlefield.

Megatron pondered these thoughts while watching a scene take place that had become commonplace during the past year.

His Creation was playing with one of the Autobots human allies. Something that he only allowed under his supervision, not trusting the humans around his mechling, Despite their assurances that they wanted peace he knew those creatures would be all too eager to have a young, defenceless and impressionable young mech at their grubby little fingertips.

Today's interactions, however, were doing little to worry him.

Orion, with the help of the human Rafael, was attempting to stand up by himself.

"I don't get it, why doesn't he just crawl," Raf asked.

"Crawl," Megatron said, indignant. "My Creation will not be crawling through the mess of this organic mudball."

Rafael winced slightly, worried he had insulted Megatron, and a few of the Autobots present watched them warily, still not comfortable with one of their fragile humans within striking distance of their former enemy.

"I just meant that all babies crawl. It's like, baby steps. You learn to crawl before you learn to walk," Raf explained.

"Perhaps for humans. We have more dignity than to shuffle around on our knees, even as mechlings. Orion will learn to stand and then he will walk. I will not have you encouraging any of this crawling nonsense. It is bad enough he enjoys playing in the dirt."

Rafael smiled at his tone and dared to ask, "It's fun. Didn't you do it when you were a kid?"

That startled a laugh out of him. "A human asking me about my youth? You are a bold one to ask such questions of me, considering I am older than your entire species. Older than your planet."

"He will never stop reminding us of his age," Optimus observed as he walked up to them. "A sure sign that one is growing senile."

"Prime," Megatron greeted, ignoring the jab at his age. "Rafael was attempting to teach Orion the finer points of crawling about in the dirt. A hobby, he assures me, is quite popular among his species."

"I didn't say that," Rafael protested as Orion grabbed his shirt curiously.

"Poor memory is another sure sign of senility. You should not argue with the infirm, Rafael, it is best just to humour him," Optimus advised sagely.

"I'll, er, keep that in mind?"

"I see the great Optimus Prime has nothing better to do with his time than harass his elders." Megatron shook his helm, a look of deep regret on his faceplates. "Orion, Rafael, I hope you will take Primes example as a model of how the feeble of mind find sport in preying on those unable to defend themselves in their old age. One would expect better of a Prime but what can you expect from someone who chooses to willingly associate with the likes of Ultra Magnus?"

Optimus snorted. "Still angry about the report?"

Megatron sneered. "A great many things were said in that report that did not need to be said."

"Yes," Optimus mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "he did use the word 'degenerate' far more than was necessary."

"And 'scoundrel'."

"I believe I saw the word 'dastardly' as well."

"Your friend does have in impressive vocabulary when it comes to polite insults, I'll give him that."

Rafael looked back and forth between the two in amazement. It was hard to believe these were the same mechs they had been only a year ago. A part of him was still trying to get over his shock.

"Megatron look," Optimus whispered.

Optimus pointed in Rafs direction. Megatrons face did something that may have been a smile on another mech but on him was more of a self satisfied smirk.

"What did I say, Rafael," Megatron said proudly.

Raf looked around for what they were talking about only to find himself eye to optic with Orion.

"You're standing," Raf crowed.

Orion chirped back at him before wobbling unsteadily and falling down.

A few of the mechs and humans in the area noticed the little milestone moment and soon Orion was the centre of attention. Something the young mechling was quite used to by this point.

Megatron nodded his approval. "It's progress."

"I think the humans are more excited than you," Optimus observed.

A shrug. "Humans have a very low excitement threshold. I'll be excited when his T-cog activates for the first time. I can't tell what his alt mode is likely to be."

"The leanness of his limbs suggests a flier mode."

"I would agree but look at his chestplates, when he's fully grown he's going to have very dense outer plating."

"You're a flier and your outer armour is warrior class," Optimus pointed out.

"But my original coding was for the mining caste. You met me after I had adopted the name Megatronus and been modified for the Pits. My original alt mode was a gun."

Eyebrow ridges raised in surprise. "A gun? I've never heard of such a thing."

"I never had much use for it once I acquired my fusion cannon. If Orion is a melding of our two forms I would suspect he might acquire my alt mode in addition to your own. Perhaps a tank of some sort."

"Don't get your hopes up. Alt mode speculation is bound to end in disappointment. He could turn out to be a microscope." Megatrons horror at the thought clearly showed on his face and Optimus couldn't hold back a smile. It would serve Megatron right if his only Creation turned out to be so unlike himself. "Whatever he turns out to be I'm sure we'll both be proud. But the reason I came out here was to let you know Ratchet and Starscream have isolated the reproductive code. They say it's only a matter of days before the code is ready for trials. Initial tests look promising."

Megatron was silent.

"You've saved us all."

"Your praise is premature and undeserved."

"You never were one to take praise graciously. If you won't accept my praise then accept my gratitude. I owe you so much, I fear I can never repay you."

The grey mech shifted uncomfortably. "A bondmate has no such obligations. I don't need your gratitude or for you to be indebted to me."

"Then ... what do you need?"

Megatron turned to look Optimus in the optics and placed a servo on his shoulderplate. "You by my side."

Optimus smiled gently. "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue should be up very soon. Spoilers: it's about Orion.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo, last chapter. Holy crap. It would have been up sooner but I had to take a jaunt over the border for vacation, holla to my American neighbors.  
> Anyways, this is it. The epilogue. Hope I don't pull a Harry Potter and make an epilogue that exactly nobody is happy with. Hopefully this wrapped up some loose ends nicely and gave some overall resolution to the story since I made this fic before I saw the end of TF: Prime.
> 
> Also. I have become aware that this story was translated into Chinese. To my Chinese readers I say 谢谢. And since I got that off google translate I also hope that says thank you and not 'your mother is a goat' or something else offensive. To the person who translated it, could you provide me with a link to the Chinese version so I can link it to my story. 
> 
> Now, on to the epilogue.

Epilogue

3 Million Years Later

Cybertron

 

Had there been anyone been observing the skies that morning they would have seen a most strange and terrifying sight. A ship, large enough to blot out the sun descending from the heavens. The ship moved silently down towards the ground and as the light caught the side one would have been able to read the ships name.

The Ark 2.

When the ship touched down it shook the ground.

Had anyone been observing they would have gotten quite tired of waiting the several hours before the doors to the ship opened with a mighty sigh of released pressure and a ramp extended towards the ground.

The observer then would have been witness to a sight that had not been seen on that planet for millions of years.

The first Cybertronian returning home.

A gleaming pearl grey frame shone in the morning light as the enormous, metal creature peered out at the landscape with inscrutable white optics. The Cybertronian took the first step off the ship, walking slowly down the ramp until his pede touched the metal ground with a tiny musical sound like metal on metal.

The Cybertronian observed his surroundings carefully, battlemask drawn tight, frame tense and wary despite the lack of obvious threat.

The more he looked the more he relaxed until the battlemask parted to show a face that was not young but yet retained an open, youthful expression of awe.

"It's alive."

A second mech stepped out. This one less wary as he walked down the ramp, heels clicking and wings twitching with excitement.

"They did it," the winged Cybertronian crowed in triumph, flitting off the ground an inch in his excitement. "The old fools actually did it. Our home. Look at it."

The grey mech turned to looked at the winged one, a look of urgency on his face. "It's true then, Starscream, the planet is healed?" He hesitated, looking back out at the landscape with a wary eye. "It's meant to look like this?"

Starscream smirked and threw his hand out to indicate the sight before them. "Does this look like a dead planet to you, Orion?"

No, thought Orion, no it doesn't. Tall crystalline spires jutted out of the metallic landscape as far as the eye could see, pronged branches reaching up and up like alien trees, all of them in as a many different colours as the rainbow. The sky above a clear blue. The land was humming with energy. An incredible feeling of rightness filling him at the sight of the crystal fields gleaming before him.

The metal beneath his pedes, the stillness of the atmosphere, the sights before him were all right. This was not his home planet of green and brown and water, this was something else. This was the feeling of stepping foot on land after being at sea so long you had almost forgotten the world could be so still.

It was strange and disorienting and so very very right.

"Tell everyone it's safe," Orion commanded softly. "Tell them we're home."

Starscream relayed the message and then transformed and blasted off with little care for how his thrusters scorched Orions freshly polished frame. Orion rolled his optics at the seekers lack of respect for his superiors and proper landing protocol. But he had learned long ago that some battles weren't worth fighting when it came to Starscream, his Second in Command would do as he pleased and woe betide the mech that tried to stop him. A lesson his Creators had never quite learned.

As Orion watched the seeker, he couldn't feel anything but a fond exasperation.

Though the seeker had put on a tough front, he had missed Cybertron more than most. Watching him cut easily through the thin, still air of Cybertron with incredible speed, the crystal spires in the background framing his sleek form, Orion couldn't help but feel as though Starscream was finally where he was meant to be. At home and making a spectacle of himself in the most eye-catching way possible.

Orion smiled. He didn't quite understand the seekers love of showing off but as he had heard many times before on the matter: 'a ground pounder would never understand, especially not a great big lumbering tank like you'.

Soon others began coming.

Old friends, new allies, techno organics who had decided to face this brave new world rather than remain on Earth. It was a strange crowd but one he had grown to care for as family on their long journey.

All had the same look in their optics. Awe and a little trepidation.

As the crowd began to disperse across the new terrain a stern faced mech approached him.

"Ultra Magnus," Orion greeted.

"Captain."

"Any word yet on the results of the scan?"

"Negative."

Orion shuttered his optics. Ultra Magnus remained respectfully silent until Orion composed himself.

"They may yet be out there."

"The first Ark left so many years ago, if they were alive they surely would have contacted us by now. It's obvious they succeeded and yet no trace of them remains on this planet, no transmission was sent to us, not one word in a million years. It's time to face the facts and the fact is, Optimus Prime, Megatron and the original crew of the Ark are dead."

Magnus gave him a look that never failed to make Orion feel like a misbehaving mechling. "The mechs on board the Ark are some of the most celebrated warriors seen in any age of Cybertronian history. Living legends. Do you think a simple trip would be enough to kill them when not even Unicron himself could do so? Do you think so little of your Creators and the warriors that follow them?"

Suitably chastised Orion offered Magnus a small smile. "Well, when you put it like that. It's just hard not knowing. They just ... vanished. Wherever they are I'm sure they're causing a scene and making Primus rue the day he forged their troublemaking sparks."

The enforcement officer looked slightly scandalized. "The Prime and the Lord High Protector do not ' _cause scenes'_."

Orion grinned. The grin quickly fell off his face. "Some days I'd rather find evidence they were dead rather than keep wondering."

Ultra Magnus placed a comforting servo on his shoulder. "Don't give up hope. They have each other and if that isn't an encouraging thought then I don't know what is."

Magnus let his servo fall to his side.

"Thank you Magnus. For everything."

"Don't thank me yet. We have a civilization to rebuild. Rules to establish. Laws to write. I'm certain after a few orn you won't be able to stand the sight of me."

Orion snorted out a laugh as Magnus walked off to join the steadily increasing crowd of mechs ogling their new home.

He looked around and everywhere he saw smiles and laughter and life and a multitude of fliers testing their wings in this new air, some of them for the first time in their lives.

Orion looked to the sky and sent a prayer out to Primus to keep his family safe, both old and new.

Then he turned his attention from the heavens and strode forward to be with his crew, his people and his family and to celebrate with them.

They were finally home.

 

*

 

Deep below the surface of the planet something stirred. Had there been anyone to observe they would have seen no visible movement for everything below the planet was still and calm, nothing to be seen but a great sphere of energy glowing with white hot light and many tubes and wires connecting this great sphere to the surface of the planet.

The stirring was in a purely metaphorical sense. Something was waking up.

Not just something but someone.

The being stretched its senses and brushed the minds of the others with it, gently waking them. Some resisted being woken with a childish stubbornness, others woke in an ill temper with flashes of irritation being projected towards the offending party. Still others woke gracefully and sent wordless inquiries to the one who had woken them.

All woke one after the other until only one remained deep in slumber. The others brushed their minds against the sleeping giant, who responded with an unconscious pulse of energy.

The one who had woken first turned their attention to the surface and all at once their mind was overcome with emotion. Joy, relief, gratitude, and above all, hope.

The force of their reaction vibrated the planet.

The one who woke first calmed them.

It wasn't time to celebrate yet.

Now was the time to act.

He sent them all forth and the beings left swiftly, all knowing what they had to do, where they had to go and one by one across the planet the great temples dedicated to Primus began coming to life. The beings settled in and waited for their kin to come. Soon they would be reunited with their loved ones, friends and families who had been split apart for a millennia.

After everyone had left there was only two. The one who had woken first and the sleeping giant.

While everyone else would eventually be brought back to their bodies and given new life, these two could not leave.

That was not entirely true.

One could not leave.

The other could leave if they choose to do so but how could they leave when the other half of their spark was here?

He wasn't needed anymore. Their Creation had grown into a fine mech, a proud warrior and a competent leader who would become a legend in his own right, the one to lead their people back home. Their friends would be found in the temples of Primus, their sparks restored to living bodies and they would tell the story of what had happened, how they had used their own living sparks to revive the planet and how the Matrix had bound itself and its host the core of the planet to keep it alive.

How and why they couldn't come back.

Megatron brushed the mind of Optimus Prime and his sparkmate, even while asleep, responded with a playful nudge of his own.

He prodded again, gently rousing Optimus, a difficult task as Cybertron required so much of his energy it was difficult for him to remain awake for long.

When Optimus woke Megatron directed his attention towards the surface of the planet.

To Orion who was currently making plans to scout the area for habitable cities and energon resources.

Optimus went from half asleep to fully awake, amazement and joy causing a strange light show in the atmosphere above the surface. Megatron laughed and for that one moment it was perfect.

They only had a short time together and in that short time there were no words exchanged but no word needed to be spoken when they could feel the other as surely as if it was their own mind. And from their various locations on the planet their crew greeted Optimus Prime all of them celebrating the return of their people and the anticipation of being among the living again.

It was bittersweet.

Their sparks molded together and they were almost as one.

From across the planet their crew responded in typical fashion, some of them playfully heckling, others politely giving them privacy, others longing for their own sparkmates.

When Optimus Prime began to fade away Megatron held him close and made a promise.

One day he would be free of this prison.

Until then Megatron would be by his side.

Until then Megatron would watch over their Creation.

Optimus thanked him, love and regret etched in his thoughts.

In the last moments before sleep took him Optimus reached out and whispered something.

 

*

 

Orion paused in the middle of directing a crew of energon seekers.

For one insane moment he could have sworn he heard a very familiar voice whispering in his ear. He looked around but could see nothing.

"Orion, are you feeling ok," Misfire asked.

"Hmm? Yeah, it's nothing. I just thought I heard something."

He returned his attention to the task at hand. And even though he knew it was just an audial glitch he went back to work with a new lightness in his spark. Even if the voice hadn't been real he had heard that voice say those words many times in the past.

The voice of Optimus Prime and the words: 'I love you'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE. I was so on the fence about this ending but I feel like it has a sort of poetic touch to it. Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Also Orion is, in fact, a tank and not a Bowflex Home Gym. Sorry to disappoint.
> 
> So that's it then. Wow. *Looks at the fic.* *Looks at the readers.* *lip wobble*  
> It's oooooover. *sobs* Thank you to all the amazing people who have read and kudo'd and commented. Love this fandom so much. I'm acting like it's goodbye but it's not like I'm not still writing TF fics, I'm just being dramatic.  
> Until next time guys.


End file.
